


There Will Be Sun (If Not Tomorrow, Perhaps the Day After)

by CupcakeOfAwesomeness



Series: there will be blue skies, my friend [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, Brooke Lohst-centric, Burns, Crushes, Crying, Fire, Friendship, Gen, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Male-Female Friendship, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Original Broadway Cast, Pining, References to Depression, Suicide Attempt, Superheroes, Superpowers, bc I said Will Roland Britton Smith Jason Tam Tiffany Mann and Jason Sweettooth Williams rights
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27361411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupcakeOfAwesomeness/pseuds/CupcakeOfAwesomeness
Summary: If there was one thing Brooke Lohst knew how to do, it was keep a secret. But all of her secrets paled in comparison to one: she was Sunshine. That's right—she was one of the city's four superheroes. She knew that it would put her loved ones in danger, though, to know her identity. So she made a decision to never tell anyone. It would beeasy; after all, she was good at keeping secrets.
Relationships: Brooke Lohst & Michael Mell, Jeremy Heere/Brooke Lohst, Rich Goranski & Brooke Lohst, Rich Goranski/Brooke Lohst
Series: there will be blue skies, my friend [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2088723
Comments: 12
Kudos: 14





	1. Sun Rising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops here comes another BMC fic when I'm not even past the first chapter of the one I posted last week 😌✨ we all know how well that goes for me!!! (*flashbacks to _Chronic_ and _Michael Who You Don't Know_ which I honestly loved both so there might be hope one day but nOT TODAY!*)
> 
> Anyways, you might know that I'm a sucker for Parent AUs, but I'm ALSO a sucker for Superhero AUs! As someone who grew up with DC cartoons, Marvel movies, and a dad who is the Biggest Green Lantern (Specifically Hal Jordan Green Lantern) Superfan You Will Ever Meet And That Actually Got Us To Skip a Line At Disneyland No Joke™ I can say I'm definitely a hero lover!! I have a long ass Young Justice fic in the works but I'm promising myself I'm not going to post anything until I have at least four or five chapters written, so I hopefully won't end up with months of no content like I inevitably will with this fic and every other fic I write ever that's not a one shot 🙃 sorry guys 🤷
> 
> OH ALSO TRIGGER WARNING JUST IN CASE: there are some suicide attempts mentioned, and a non-canon minor character death (heavily alluded to, but not exactly overt; it seems to be a medical emergency at first, but does not end happily), and that stuff will be explained more in future chapters, but it's all stuff that the musical ALSO alludes to/flat out mentions, so hopefully you'll all be okay 😊
> 
> Anyways, enough rambling, I'll do some explanation-y bits at the end of this chapter so see you then! ✌️
> 
> [EDIT: I added actual emojis, tell me if you hate them 😂]

If there was one thing Brooke Lohst knew how to do, it was keep a secret. 

Like, when Chloe and her kissed at summer camp. It had been a dare, nothing earth shattering, no sparks flew—but afterwards, while laying in their bunk, Chloe said, in the smallest voice, “ _I think I might like girls_.” Brooke leaned over the edge of her bed, looking down at her best friend and assuring in hushed tones that it was okay if she did and that she loved her all the same. Chloe had urged her not to tell though, so she didn't. 

Or when her little sister, Gracie, broke their mom's old record player. She had only been eight and ran up to Brooke weeping, barely able to explain what had happened through her tears. So Brooke had hugged her tight, listening to her story. She couldn't fix it—Mom's boyfriend at the time bought her a new one later, so it didn't end up mattering—but she promised Gracie that she would take the blame instead. To this day, Mom still thought it was Brooke. 

_Or_ when she caught Jake cheating off of her in science class. He had gotten so flustered after being caught, babbling about how he couldn't grasp the concepts and Brooke was just so smart—he begged her not to tell on him. She didn't, but made him agree to get tutoring, so he wouldn't need to cheat again. His marks went up and their teacher was none the wiser. 

But all of that paled in comparison to her _biggest_ secret. A fact about herself that _no one_ in her life knew—so closely guarded that she daren't give so much as a breath in regards to it. It was something so life changing, so universe upending, that it shaped everything she did. It made her who she was today. 

She was Sunshine. 

That's right—she was one of the city's four superheroes. She wasn't the _first_ hero Middleborough had been home to, not by a long shot; she was, however, the first of this new generation. Her mentor, Crimson Sun, had similar powers to hers—not quite the same, his were more along the lines of pyrokinesis than photokinesis—but he was getting on in years and had a family and was just tired of running around in spandex every night, aimlessly patrolling a city that was honestly pretty safe. So, when she came to him one evening, pleading with him to teach her to control her powers, he took her under his wing. 

Those were good days, when she was still learning and hidden from the limelight. When she sat with him and his wife and children in their house, learned their names (Conrad, Drusilla, Stanley and Lucy Egerton), accepted freshly baked cookies from Drusilla, played video games with Stan and Lu, had sparring matches with Conrad—those were the days she missed. Of course, she was still welcome at the Egerton household any time, but it was different now that she was her own hero and not just a secret sidekick. Still, she wouldn't give up the hero life for anything. 

Being Sunshine—in her pale yellow supersuit and domino mask, flying above the city with her golden locks flowing in the wind, protecting the civilians from danger—that was what she _lived_ for. 

Sometimes it was hard, lying to everyone about why she had to leave so suddenly, or why she was injured so often, or why she was always so tired. She knew that it would put them in danger, though, to know her identity. Should any of them get hurt due to her... She didn't like to entertain the thought. It was safer that only Conrad and his family knew—retired or not, he was still capable of defending himself and his family if anything happened. 

So she made a decision to never tell anyone. Not Mom or Gracie. Not Chloe or Jake or Rich or Jenna. Not anyone she loved dearly, unless they were a superhero as well. That was her promise to herself and she refused to break it. 

It would be _easy_ ; after all, she was good at keeping secrets. 

Brooke's first period was English class with Rich. They sat together and she was constantly reminded how good Rich was at the subject. She knew no one expected it of him, yet she was a witness to his poetic prowess many times over. He had a way with words—at least, when he put his pen to paper—and, despite him seeming to have an internal struggle every day, he always was attentive in class and performed better than most other boys his age. She enjoyed his company for that very reason; he wasn't like other guys, even if he sometimes tried to be. In English, she got to experience this soft, intelligent side of him, and it was the part of him she cherished. 

“Hey, Brooke!”

Rich's voice was hushed as he nudged her playfully. She glanced over at him, smiling fondly. He was smirking lopsidedly; she felt her heart flutter. 

“Yeah?” she whispered, bumping his shoulder in return. 

“Wanna ditch next period and grab froyo?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“Well, _I_ happen to have a freebie next period,” she replied slyly, her brain going a million miles an hour, screaming _OMG OMG OMG RICH IS ASKING ME OUT_ , “but if I recall, _you_ have bio.”

“ _Screw bio_.” They ducked their heads lower as the teacher eyed them suspiciously. They stifled their laughter. Rich locked eyes with Brooke. “You know you _wannaaa_ ,” he added, in a sing-songy tone, waggling his eyebrows. 

“Okay,” she agreed, linking her pinky with his. Their gaze met and each had heated cheeks. She smiled brightly. “Let's do it.”

There was a moment where Rich's expression went blank—as though he were listening to someone, having a mental argument—then he blinked and the gleam was back in his eyes. Brooke almost called him on it, but Mr. Warner snapped at them to pay attention so they immediately turned back to the whiteboard, smiling to themselves. 

Her phone vibrated and she glanced at her lap. The notification read: 

**_Conrad Egerton 🍳_**

_Gunman on Fifth. Can you get there?_

Shit. 

She looked over at Rich; his head rested on his fist, watching as Mr. Warner paced in front of them, reading some quote from _Of Mice and Men_. The sun shone through the window, hitting Rich's face just right, making him look almost ethereal. She bit her lip. 

_Shit._

She raised her hand. “Mr. Warner! I need to go to the bathroom!”

“ _Miss Lohst_ —”

“It's _girl stuff_ , Mr. Warner!” she pleaded, hoping the lie was convincing enough. “ _Please_?”

The man sighed, waving her off. She jumped to her feet, giving Rich an apologetic glance as she scampered out of the room. Shooting a quick text to Conrad— _omw now!_ —and then to Rich— _im so sorry rich_ —she ducked into the nearest girls' bathroom. As soon as she was certain no one was inside, she threw her backpack into a corner stall and shred her clothes as quickly as she could. Once safely in her supersuit, she forced open the small window and flew out of the building. 

Soaring through the air, she could see the gunman already. He was standing in the middle of a residential street, waving his pistol haphazardly. No law enforcement were on scene yet, but she could hear sirens in the distance. She dipped lower in the sky, hands glowing as she approached. 

“Hey!” she yelled, getting his attention. He whipped around to face her. She frowned; he looked _terrified_. “Hey, hey, it's _okay_ , I'm not going to hurt you...”

“ _No_ ,” the man shook his head, shakily aiming his gun at her. “ _No, no, no_...”

“Please, put the weapon down,” she said, voice simultaneously firm and tender. His eyes were wide, pupils darting from left to right, and he couldn't stop shaking. Something was _wrong_ here. “I'm Sunshine—I'm here to _help_ you.”

“ _No_ ,” the man insisted again, swallowing. “No, he says you're here to _kill me_. Kill me and help _them_.”

She could see the passersby looking on in abject horror, too fearful to run, too afraid of being shot. She continued floating to the ground, slowly— _cautiously_ —arms outstretched consolingly. He didn't move, but he also didn't shoot. 

“ _Who_ says that?” she asked, feet gently touching the pavement. 

“ _He! He_ says!” 

The man's gun poised towards his own head and Brooke took in a sharp breath. He shook, finger tensing on the trigger. A crazed smile spread across his face; he began laughing, volume increasing by the second. Brooke could hear the wailing sirens encroaching on them. 

“Where is he?” she tried instead, hands glowing brighter, readying herself to attack or defend at a moment's notice. 

The man's laughter hushed again and he tapped the barrel of the gun to his temple, eyes still wide, smile still large, chuckles now eerily quiet. 

“ _In here_ ,” he said, barely above a whisper. He knocked his head with the weapon more aggressively now. “ _He's in here_!”

“Okay,” Brooke said lightly, taking a few careful steps towards him. “Do—do you _want_ him in there?” The man shook his head violently, tears streaming down his cheeks. Brooke took another step. “ _Okay_. I know people who can _help you_ —they can take him out of your head. You just need to put your gun down...”

“ _No! This is the only way!_ ” 

He squeezed the trigger—Brooke yanked his arm up, pointing it to the sky, and then caught the stray bullet in a force field. The man sobbed, wretched tears, and she panted, breathing a sigh of relief. Her force field floated gently down to the palm of her hand and disintegrated, leaving only the bullet's warm metal to run her fingers over. She looked up at the bystanders and emergency response team that had finally arrived, at all of their shocked expressions. 

That was _way_ too close. 

She stayed well into her lunch break to converse with the paramedics and police officers as they took the man to get a psychiatric test performed. She hugged her arms close to her body as he was wheeled away, handcuffed on a gurney. She felt sorry for him—he seemed like someone who was struggling with mental health. She hoped he could get the help he needed now. 

“You'll contact me when he feels up for talking?” Brooke asked, giving a paramedic the number for her burner. 

“Of course, Miss Sunshine, but why? It seems like a simple case of mental illness gone untreated,” the woman said, brows knitted together. 

“Maybe. But that doesn't mean he wouldn't like to talk,” Brooke replied, smiling. Something about the whole thing felt _off_ , but she didn't want to speculate. She was only seventeen, after all—what did she know? Her stomach growled; something she _did_ know was that she needed to get back to school. “Thank you for all your help. I need to get going.”

Flying away from the scene, she made a beeline back to Middleborough High, hoping she hadn't made anyone suspicious. Ducking into the third floor girls' bathroom yet again, she slunk into the stall and got back into her civs— _civs_ was short for _civilian clothes_ , as dubbed by Retro, one of the other three local heroes she sometimes worked with—keeping an ear out for anyone who might enter the room. Her phone had several messages on it, mostly from Rich. She felt a pang of guilt. 

**_Conrad Egerton 🍳_**

_I don't know what omw means._

_Just saw the news. Good job, Brookie._

**_Chloe Vday 💋_**

_Brooke where ru?_

_fucking MADELINE is sleeping w Jake again!!!_

**_Rich (crush owo) 💞_**

_brooke?_

_r u ok?_

_hey b?_

_i hope u feel better soon_

_its been a hour r u ok???_

She closed her eyes, grimacing. 

**_Rich (crush owo) 💞_**

_sorry r!_

_cramps got me dead 😭_

_took some advil+tylenol tho_

_froyo raincheck?_

_aw :((( hope u feel better soon b!_

_def another day :))) smthng cme up 4 me anyways_

_c u at rehersl?_

Oh, _that's right_ , they had both signed up for the play—she had almost forgotten. ( _She_ signed up because _Chloe_ and _Rich_ signed up, _they_ signed up because _Jake_ signed up, _Jake_ signed up because _Christine_ signed up, and _Christine_ signed up because she was _actually_ a theatre kid. Thus was what the social hierarchy commanded.) 

**_Rich (crush owo) 💞_**

_yeppers! see u then 😊_

**_Chloe Vday 💋_**

_sorry chlo_

_cramps u kno?_

_oof fuckn ._

_i get u_

_cu in math i gotta vent_

_👍_

She sighed, pulling her hand down her face tiredly. How was _civ_ life more exhausting than being a _superhero_? She tugged on her backpack, fixed her hair, and pushed her way out of the bathroom. 

“Did you hear?” 

Rich pulled Brooke aside after play rehearsal. She couldn't stop thinking about his hand on her arm. _Damn, Brooke, you have it bad._ She shook her head, though she had an inkling of what Rich might be referring to. 

“Sunshine was just a few blocks away earlier,” he said, excitement creeping into his voice. 

“Oh, no kidding?” 

Feigning surprise got easier every time Rich gushed over her hero persona. It was flattering, how he idolized Sunshine above all the others—Brooke always assumed he'd be more into Quaker, or Retro, or even Sonnet, yet he never fawned over any of them like he did Sunshine. She smiled as he continued. 

“ _I shit you not, B_!” His eyes were alight; she felt butterflies swarming in her stomach. “I saw Jenna Rolan's instagram story about it! Apparently, there was some _insane_ guy with a gun and Sunshine, like, saved his _life_!”

“Saved his life?”

“ _Yeah_! It was so cool, like, I feel like if the cops had gotten to him first, they would've killed him, but now he's gonna get help and it's just—” He waved his arms excitedly and Brooke couldn't help but match his grin. “She's so _amazing_!” He flinched before adding, almost forcefully, “Too bad you never get to see her, huh?”

Brooke stopped short as they were heading out of the drama classroom. She scrutinized him closely. _Was he...?_ He wouldn't meet her gaze. She laughed, playing up her incredulity. 

“What, are you saying _I'm_ Sunshine?” she teased, though alarm bells were blaring in her head. Rich didn't move. She nudged him playfully, hoping her smile didn't waver. “Ha, I guess you've never seen me and her in the same room! Maybe I _am_ Sunshine.”

“Right, yeah, sorry, that was stupid,” he said, laughing as well. It felt so _stiff_ and she frowned. 

“Rich, are you okay? Sorry to, like, disappoint you or whatever—”

“No, no, I'm fine. I just, uh, I remembered I had something to do with Jeremy after school.”

Brooke's frown didn't waver. “Jeremy? Who's that?”

Rich gestured over to a boy in a blue sweater who was just exiting the room with another boy in a red hoodie. “Tallass, over there.” He was _kinda_ tall, but not _that_ tall? She supposed maybe _everyone_ seemed tall to Rich—not like he was even _that_ short, either. “Just some homework shit. But, I'll talk to you later?”

Brooke nodded, dubiously. “Sure. See you.”

She was at the mall with Chloe later when she was called into action yet again. There was a robbery in progress at the Microsoft store downstairs. Luckily, Chloe was in the changing room, so Brooke shot her a text about needing to go to the bathroom and darted away to get changed. 

It didn't take long for her to arrive at the crime scene, where a woman was smashing computers and tablets over her own head. Brooke winced—it looked painful, though the woman didn't seem bothered at all. In fact, she just kept going. 

“Sunshine!”

Brooke whipped her head around to grin at Retro, who was rolling up to the store now. Retro was a hero with technokinesis and a ton of gadgets to compliment his abilities. He must've heard the commotion as well. 

“Nice to see you again,” he called up to her as she hovered above him. “Shall we tag team this looney tune?”

“I thought you'd never ask!” Brooke grinned, cracking her knuckles and readying her fists. “C'mon!”

Upon entering the store, the woman paused her smashing to whip her head towards them. She screamed like a wounded animal and broke a tablet in half with her bare hands. 

“Hey, you break it, you buy it, lady!” Retro yelled cheekily, skidding to a stop, letting the wheels pop back into his shoes. 

“ _GET OUT OF MY HEAD_!”

Brooke dodged to the side as a laptop was thrown her way. Retro pulled out a pair of bolas fashioned to look like extension cables— _clever_ , Brooke thought, admiring his dedication to his theme—and threw it at the woman. Her movement was jerky and forced, but she somehow perfectly evaded the attack. 

“GET OUT GET OUT _GET OUT_!”

“We can't leave 'til you're in cuffs, Technophobia!” He looked to Brooke for feedback; she waved her hand in a _so-so_ gesture. “Eh, so not every nickname is a winner. Let's just finish this.”

Brooke flew forward, shooting photon blasts at the woman, hoping to knock her out. Lurched as her movements were, she was precise—as though she were a puppet on strings, under the control of an all-seeing puppeteer. The woman chucked a tablet at Brooke's head and it hit her square in the face, sending her careening backwards. Retro had to dive out of the way to avoid her as she crashed through the display window. She shook herself off and popped back up in moments, ducking behind a shelf with Retro. 

“Okay, you're smart, what's the plan?” she asked, as a desktop computer flew over their heads. 

“Aw, you think I'm smart?” She gave him an urgent look. “Right, not the time, I gotcha, sorry—okay, you distract her over there, giving me enough time to grab my bolas off the floor and throw them from behind.”

Brooke nodded. “Good idea. Ready?”

It was his turn to nod. “Go for it.”

“Hey! Lady!” 

Brooke soared by quickly, hovering at the other end of the room. The woman's body position followed; Retro shot her a thumbs up, cautiously crossing the floor to grab his weapons. Brooke dodged another laptop—seriously, this lady had zero regard for property damage—and kept the woman's attention away from the boy sneaking around the floor behind her. She threw up a force field when a tablet was hurled her way. Retro was nearly there now, she just needed a few more seconds of distraction... 

Finally, he swept up his bolas and threw them again swiftly. This time, the woman was caught, tumbling to the floor with a shriek of rage. Retro threw his arms in the air excitedly.

“Guess your bark is worse than your byte!” He grinned, glancing at Brooke for approval. She raised an eyebrow and he added, “Like, _byte_ , y'know? B-Y-T—you know what, yeah, that was bad.”

She nodded as she slowly approached the incapacitated criminal. Retro questioned her in hushed tones, but she ignored him, kneeling in front of the woman on the floor. 

“Why did you do this?” she asked quietly. 

“My _head_ ,” the woman hissed. “It's in _my head_! It needs to leave! I need it to _leave_!” Her voice was rising rapidly with every word. “ _I can't make it leave!_ ”

Retro whistled and twirled a finger around his temple, mumbling something about _cuckoo nutso_. Brooke shot him a look. She turned back to their hostage, features softening, trying to look as approachable as possible. 

“What is in your head?” she asked gently. 

“ _SSSSKKKW_ —” 

Before she could say anything, she began to shake violently. Brooke blinked, backing away in shock. Retro gasped, fumbling with his phone. 

“She's having a seizure!” he said, dialing 911 quickly. 

“H-How do you know?” Brooke stammered, pulling her knees to her chest, breathing getting heavier. She could barely think, eyes fixated on the woman tied up before her, shaking and shaking _and_ _shaking_. 

“My mom's a nurse,” he said, stumbling as the operator picked up. “Menlo Park Mall, Microsoft store! I'm Mi—I'm Retro and I'm here with Sunshine, a criminal we were detaining is having what appears to be a seizure!” He listened for a moment, eyes widening, then frantically yelled, “Don't hang up, _don't hang_ —! Shit!”

“They _hung up_ on you?”

“Thought I was some kid making a prank call,” Retro said, pocketing his phone again in frustration. “They said they already had paramedics on their way, someone already called in when the lady first started her attack.” His fingers shook as he began to fumble with the bolas. “Help me get these off of her! Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck...”

Brooke hurried to assist him, managing to pull the restraints off of the woman. She still seized forcefully, eyes staring into nothing, drool beginning to pool out of her mouth. 

“Is she—is—?” Brooke swallowed, staring up at Retro with terror-filled eyes. “Is she gonna—?”

“She'll be fine,” he said, sounding more confident than he looked. A cracked laptop lit up behind him, revealing a blue screen as it crashed again. Brooke wasn't sure if that was Retro subconsciously revealing his fear, or just coincidence, but she felt her stomach drop. 

She hated how powerless she felt. She was meant to _protect_ people, to _save_ them. However, even a superhuman—no matter how many villains she faced—would never be able to save people from the greatest opponent of them all: themselves. 

“Can you do anything?” she asked, gripping the bolas tightly, trying to ground herself. 

“Not unless she's a robot,” Retro said bitterly. “Fuck, I wish I paid more attention when _Nanay_ explained medical shit!”

The two teenagers waited anxiously for the emergency personnel to arrive, everything feeling a thousand times slower as they watched the woman writhe on the floor. As paramedics piled through the broken doors of the store, the shaking came to a halt. 

Brooke began to cry. 

By the time she was back with Chloe, her eyes looked less puffy and her cheeks were less red. She said she had stayed hidden in the bathroom when she heard the commotion of Sunshine and Retro's battle—a believable lie—and her worry had gotten the better of her. Chloe didn't seem to care, ranting about Jake Dillinger, her ex-boyfriend; Brooke trailed alongside her, mind still elsewhere. Only when her friend incredulously said, “ _Jerry_?” did she return to the present. 

“Jer-emy!” the boy correctly, loud and awkward. Brooke recognized him as the 'tallass' Rich had plans with. 

“You shop here?” Chloe asked, hands on her hips. Brooke had to agree with her incredulity—this didn't seem like his scene. 

“Yeah, all the— _Never_ is what I meant.” He paused, then said, still awkwardly, “Heeey, Brooke!”

Brooke raised an eyebrow, taking a sip from the Starbucks cup she had bought before the fight. It was slushy and less desirable than when she initially purchased it, still, she drank. She _definitely_ needed caffeine with whatever this interaction was turning into. 

“Looking pretty sexy, Brooke!” he stated, as though he were yelling out an obvious fact. Like, _the sky is blue!_ or _grass is green!_

She looked down at herself—cardigan rumpled, hair askew, sweat rolling down her skin—she looked anything _but_. Strange as he was, she couldn't help but feel a little bit flattered. “Uh, thanks.”

“Is that a girl's shirt?” Chloe snapped. Leave it to Chloe Valentine to point out fashion faux pas while simultaneously turning the attention back to herself, where it belonged. Brooke took another sip. 

“No! I mean, yes, uh... I saw it in the window and I couldn't dismiss the pain it put me through... I was dating a girl, and she had a shirt _just_ like this.”

“Soooo, who _was_ this... _mystery girl_?” Chloe asked, smirking as she called him out on his lie. 

“You've probably never heard of her. Her name's Madeline—”

“ _WHAT_?”

“She's French,” he said, dreamily. Chloe cut him off immediately, snapping the clothes hanger in half through her rage. 

“Oh, she is _not_ French! She just _pretends_ to be for _attention_!”

“Madeline broke up with _you_?” Brooke asked, skeptically. She had barely noticed this boy before now, yet here he was claiming he slept with her best friend's arch nemesis? Surely, she would've known. 

“No—I broke up with _her_.” Brooke raised her eyebrow again. “Cause she was _cheating_ on me.”

“What did I tell you? She is a _life ruiner_!” Chloe exclaimed, discarding the broken hanger. 

“You're better off without her,” Brooke addressed Jeremy, encouragingly. 

Her last boyfriend—Dustin Kropp—had cheated on her too. She had zero respect for cheaters; there was never a good reason to cheat on someone. She hoped Jeremy would be able to heal from his previous relationship, as she had from hers. He looked a bit out of it—still reminiscing about his ex, no doubt—and didn't seem like he was in any state to be left alone right now. 

“Hey, Jeremy? Do you want a ride?” she asked, gently. “I can drop you off wherever you need. Chloe and I are headed to Pinkberry anyway.”

“Yes! Oh, but I'm supposed to meet my friend, Michael,” he said apologetically, flinching. “Next time!”

Brooke smiled; as long as he wasn't going to be alone with this feeling, she was satisfied. “Cool! See you around.” She paused, adding quietly, “My last boyfriend cheated on me too. I get how you feel. It'll get better, I promise.”

She waved cheerfully and skipped after Chloe towards her mother's car, events of the Microsoft store nearly forgotten. 

Brooke sat alone in her bedroom. She only had half an hour until supper and after that she would be going out on patrol, so she needed to finish her homework _now_. It wasn't the most preferable arrangement, but that was the price she paid for being the city's hero. 

“Brooke!”

Gracie tumbled into her room, flopping dramatically onto her bed. Brooke continued scribbling equations on her math sheet. 

“What is it, Gray?”

Gracie bounced, dishevelling Brooke's duvet. “Can you come walk Parker with me?”

Parker, their large golden retriever, barked from the hallway upon hearing her name. Brooke felt a pang of guilt—she hadn't been able to spend very much time with either her sister or her dog recently—still, a hero's work was never done. 

“Sorry, Gray, I need to finish my homework before dinner.”

“ _After_ dinner?” Gracie pleaded, clasping her hands together. Brooke couldn't bear to face her, knowing it would only make her feel worse. 

She shook her head, erasing her answer (8) and revising it (8.65). “I have plans with Jake tonight, Gracie. Another day.”

“You _always_ say that!” Gracie shouted, hopping up and stomping her feet indignantly. “You always have stupid homework and stupid plans with your stupid friends!”

“ _Hey_ ,” Brooke said sharply, finally swivelling around to face the eleven-year-old. “That wasn't very nice, Gracie...” The younger girl pouted, crossing her arms. Brooke tutted gently, like the big sister she was. “You'll understand when you're older.”

“ _Whatever_. Just... I guess I'm gonna go walk Parker myself.”

“Have fun!”

Gracie didn't respond, just huffed and slammed the door behind her. Brooke sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear and returning to the work at hand. 

She sat on a rooftop at 8:30, watching the lights dance along the streets below. She had police scanner alerts on her phone, so she just needed to wait. She still felt bad about the conversation with Gracie earlier—disappointing her baby sister always ruined her mood, making her dismal for the rest of the day. She sighed, gripping the edge of the roof tighter, keeping herself in the present. She had to stay focused. She needed to—

“Hey!”

Brooke shrieked, tumbling onto her back. Upon hitting the tough concrete of the apartment's roof, she noticed Quaker standing behind her. She glared at him, though she couldn't hide her smile. 

“Jerk!” she cried, sitting up and sticking her middle finger in his direction. “I could've _died_ , y'know.”

“You can _fly_ ,” he said, plopping down next to her with a shit-eating grin. She shoved him playfully. 

“ _Still_. It's the principle of the thing, asshole.” 

She loved all the heroes she worked with—they were Sunshine's best friends and, if she knew their identities, she suspected they'd be Brooke's as well—but she definitely had a crush on Quaker. He was confident and brass and passionate and flirty—just her type. She wondered if he liked her too. Sometimes, it seemed like it. She hoped he did. 

“So, how's patrol been?” she asked. 

He shrugged. “Boring. No one's doing any illegal shit.”

“That's a good thing, dumbass!” He made Brooke laugh; that gave him major Crush Points™ as well. “Maybe you and I have been living in a different world today. I feel like I've been on duty all day.”

“Oh yeah, I saw the news. You and, uh, what's-his-face teamed up—Reno? No, uh... Rebo? Retro! Retro, that's it.”

Brooke snorted. “God, you need to work on that memory of yours. You're gonna forget _my_ name, one day!”

“Nah, never. I just don't care about those posers as much as you.” He grinned at her lopsidedly—see, _that_ was the shit that made her think he might like her back. “Sunshine, I—”

A familiar sonic scream ripped through the air. Brooke jumped to her feet in moments. 

“Speaking of!” She rose off of the roof, glancing back to Quaker. “That was _definitely_ Sonnet, we'd better check if she needs our help!”

“Right...”

She frowned. “You want me to fly you or...?”

“No! No, I... I can make my way there myself. I'll be right behind you.”

His smile wasn't convincing, but she nodded anyways. 

Once she arrived on the scene—Sonnet had handled the situation herself, the fight already being over by the time Brooke arrived—Quaker was nowhere to be found. She pretended she wasn't worried when Sonnet bounced over to her, rambling excitedly about the events of her patrol. What was going _on_ today?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY I HOPE YOU LIKED IT!!!! I love Brooke 😌✨💜
> 
>   
> **THINGS TO MENTION:**
> 
> The title is from the Broadway musical, Groundhog Day! Fun fact: Gerard Canonico is one of my favourite Broadway actors 😌✨ (he's in both GD and BMC, in case you were unaware haha Rich in BMC and Freddie in GD!!! He's a talented boy and I love him)
> 
> I think you can tell who the other heroes are, but in case you don't, I'm not gonna reveal it until I do in-story. 
> 
> 911 operator hangs up on Retro bc he sounds like a prank caller—not professional at all, but I watch True Crime YouTube videos and can verify that SOME operators are not great. This is not commentary on ALL 911 operators lol (however, I will openly say ACAB and we gotta get our fucking acts together and stop systemic racism, like wtf anYWAYS)
> 
> Gracie's legal first name is indeed Gracie, not Grace. Her nickname is Grace or Gray :)
> 
> Uhhhhh maybe I'll add more if I think of anything, but for now, I think that's it! Thank you for reading!! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter and are looking forward to chapters to come! 
> 
> Much love, Jayce 💜


	2. Shining Bright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More!!!! I love this fic so much I have so many exciting plans and ahshsksgsks I just love it 😭 also, some scenes here seem less important but it'll all connect in the end (hopefully) 😘
> 
> [EDIT: please tell me if you'd rather I used actual emojis in the fic or continued with the asterisks or something else bc I don't want it to bug anyone!! 😊]
> 
> [EDIT: I added actual emojis, tell me if you hate them 😂]

“So you and Jeremy are best friends now?”

Rich looked up from where he was etching his name into the edge of his desk. Brooke stood over him, not bitter or resentful, just... _puzzled_. It had gone from 'homework shit with tallass over there' to 'fist bumping in the halls and talk of video games after school.' She just didn't understand it. 

“Not _best_ friends,” he said, shrugging. “Just... Yeah. Friends, I guess.” 

“Okay.” Because what else could she say? She couldn't control his friendships and Jeremy seemed really nice. Still... something felt weird. She couldn't pinpoint it. “Well, I'm happy for you, I guess.”

“Thanks, Brooke.” 

He turned back to his etching; Brooke sat down next to him, perturbed frown still on her face. She shouldn't be so doubtful of Jeremy's intentions. He was allowed to be nice to her. It wasn't suspect for someone to start hanging around her and her friends. That's what Rich had done two years ago and now he was one of her closest friends (and biggest crush but that wasn't relevant to the situation at hand). 

So why couldn't she shake this eerie feeling she had? 

She decided to patrol over lunchtime. Usually, she didn't patrol during school hours unless Conrad contacted her with something he'd heard over the police scanner. Today, she was tired of Jeremy—everyone talking to him, with him, _about_ him, it was all Jeremy, Jeremy, _Jeremy_ —so she opted to skip and fly around the city for a while. 

Apparently, Retro had the same idea. 

“Hey,” she said gently, floating down next to him on the top of a 7-Eleven. He gave a grunt to acknowledge her presence. She took it as an invitation to sit next to him. “How's patrol?”

“'M not on patrol,” he muttered, around the straw of his slushie. 

“Oh.”

“I wanted to sit on a fucking roof and I can't do that in my civs, so.” He gestured to himself lamely. “ _C'est la vie_.”

There was a pause. Then, Brooke spoke up again. “Do... you want to talk about it?”

“It's civ stuff, it doesn't matter.” He shrugged as though he were completely nonchalant, but he was clearly frustrated. 

“Civ stuff matters,” she said gently, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder. “You don't _have_ to confide in me, but... I'm here for you, y'know?”

“Thanks, Sunshine...” They sat in silence for another few minutes—he offered her some of his sushi and she gratefully partook—until he finally said, heatedly, “So, my best friend is ignoring me.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, Retro. That sucks.” Always one to search for a bright side, she added, hopefully, “Maybe it's a misunderstanding.”

“I yelled his name and looked him in the fucking eyes earlier and he didn't even _blink_. He walked past me and started acting all buddy-buddy with these _popular_ kids!” Retro let out a groan of resentment. “It's like I'm fucking _invisible_ and I know for a _fact_ that's not one of my powers!” He sighed, dropping his head in his hands, emotional fatigue finally hitting him. “I just don't know what I did wrong.”

His voice was so small and tearful; Brooke felt her heart break for him. She wrapped her arms around him gingerly. 

“I'm so sorry, Retro... That's _so_ awful. It's totally understandable that you would be upset.” She chuckled to herself morosely. “And to think, I came out here to wallow in self-pity.”

“You can, um, talk to me about it?” he suggested, wiping tears from under his visor-mask-thing. (Brooke had _no_ clue what to call it.) “If you want.”

“It's really stupid and childish,” she said. “Nothing like being ignored by a friend.”

“Still.”

She smiled softly. “Okay. Well, there's this kid who started hanging out with my friend group and honestly? I guess I'm kinda jealous.” She shrugged, looking at her lap. “He just, like, showed up? And suddenly he's, like, best friends with all my friends? I just don't get it.”

“Weird.” Retro pulled his knees closer to his chest. “I don't think that's a stupid reason to be jealous or whatever.”

“Thanks...” She sighed. “And it _sucks_ because he's not even _mean_ or anything! He's a bit weird, but he hasn't been rude to me or anything, so I feel bad for being so skeptical of him.”

“Nah, it's pretty weird for someone to randomly show up and win everyone over, he doesn't need to be mean to be suspicious.” 

“It's _so_ similar to what another one of my friends did a couple years ago though, and he's one of my best friends now, so it feels so hypocritical to not like this new kid, y'know?”

“Maybe so. But, I mean, your feelings are still valid or whatever.” Retro shrugged, taking a sip of his slushie. “I'm no expert on this stuff, I've only ever had one friend.” His face fell. “Or, I _used_ to have one friend...”

“Well, _we're_ friends, aren't we?” Brooke insisted, nudging him fondly. “Sure, we don't know our secret identities, but that doesn't exclude us from friendship, right?”

Retro gave her a small smile. “Yeah. Yeah, we are. Sorry, I just wasn't sure if you—yeah. We're friends, for sure!”

Brooke grinned widely. “Good! I like hanging out with you.”

“Me too.” He paused, then said, quietly, “So, yesterday was... a lot.” Brooke nodded, glancing away as she remembered the paramedics frantically scrambling to find a pulse. “How are you feeling about it?”

She shrugged. “I mean... That was the first time I've seen someone die in front of me. I'm usually pretty good about keeping the bad guys alive so they can go to prison or rehab or whatever they need.”

“You still did. It wasn't your fault that she—you know.” When she didn't reply, he added, more forcefully, “It _wasn't_ your fault, Sunshine.”

“I guess. I still feel guilty, though? Like, I could've done more, but I just... I froze. I didn't know what to do...”

“Neither did I, really. You can't harbour guilt about shit that wasn't your fault.”

“Clearly, I _can_ , Retro.”

He said nothing for a moment. She didn't cry—she kind of wanted to, everytime she thought about that woman's body being taken away on a stretcher. She just picked at Retro's discarded straw wrapper instead. 

“Hey, do you wanna go somewhere?” he asked, sitting up suddenly and looking at her questioningly. 

She raised an eyebrow. “Where?”

Retro shrugged. “Somewhere. _Anywhere_. Just fuck off and ditch school for the day.”

Brooke considered this for a moment. On one hand, she had play rehearsal today, and Chloe and Rich would be bugging her about where she went. On the other hand, it might be nice to just... escape. Chloe was her best friend, but she was pretty bossy and rude sometimes. Rich was acting weird recently and seemed to have replaced her with Jeremy. And Jake... Jake was _nice_ , but he and she had never been _that_ close. No one would _really_ miss her, not when they had Jeremy. 

“Sure. Let's do it.”

Retro grinned, collecting his trash. “I knew I liked you. C'mon, let's go find a mugging or something.”

They ended up catching a pickpocket, giving a catcaller a very stern talking-to, and prevented a car crash, before heading back to school so they could pick up their backpacks and cars. It wasn't hard to figure out that they attended the same high school, since there weren't that many high schools in the city and they generally patrolled around the same area. They were both still hesitant to reveal their identities—not that they didn't trust each other, it just felt strange to reveal something you'd kept so secretive for so long—so they merely bid each other goodbye and split up to get changed. 

On the way out of the building, Brooke nearly slammed into Jeremy Heere. All previous jealous thoughts about him disappeared when she saw that he was sobbing uncontrollably. 

“Jeremy! Oh my gosh, are you all right?” she asked, leading him away from the crowded entrance. They sat on the bleachers, his hands in hers as she attempted to calm him. “Jeremy, seriously, what happened?”

“I—I don't kn-know!” he wept. 

She felt bad for him—whatever had happened, it obviously had hurt him very deeply. She didn't want to pressure him to reveal anything to her, so she tugged him forward into a soft embrace, rubbing his back gently. If she couldn't comfort him with words, she could with gestures. 

“I—I'm sorry,” he hiccuped, trying to pull himself together. “I—I know thi-this is s-s- _so_ lame...”

“Not at all! It's good to get your emotions out.” 

It was nice, seeing him like this. Not that Brooke _wanted_ Jeremy to be sad, but it was nice seeing a real person behind all the macho he had displayed with Rich throughout the day. She felt even worse for being so frustrated with him earlier. Maybe she had misjudged him... 

“Feeling better?” she asked gently, when he tentatively pulled his head off of her shoulder, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. 

“Yeah... Thanks, Brooke.” He smiled up at her and—oh. Butterflies fluttered in a way that usually only happened with Rich. “You're the nicest girl I've ever known. The prettiest, too.”

He was saying all the right things. She bit her lip, hazel eyes meeting blue. He was cuter than she remembered from the morning, too; his eyes shone with a pureness she had never seen before, and his dimples made his smile seem so genuine. She felt her cheeks getting warm. 

“I—I don't know what to say...”

“You don't need to _say_ anything,” he whispered, playfully. 

He leaned forward, confident and smiling slyly. She swallowed; it felt wrong. They barely knew each other and—and she had a crush on Rich! _And_ she had just been bitching about him to Retro over lunch! But... here he was, the rays of sun creating a halo around him, lips so close to hers, so obviously into her in a way that Rich probably never would be...

She threw caution to the wind and closed the gap between them. 

**_Lucy Eggs 🍳_**

_brooke come over_

_i need someone to practice this new makeup look on plz_

_k_

_be there in 5_

The Egerton house was the cliché American dream house. White picket fence, tidily trimmed lawn, large backyard with a koi pond and a treehouse, two stories plus a basement—Conrad and Drusilla had really hit the jackpot in their early days of marriage. Brooke sat on the edge of Lucy's bed, allowing the older girl to paint her face in whatever wacky way she had envisioned this time. As she carefully drew on eyeliner, Brooke talked about her day. 

“...so we made out and talked a bit and then I came here,” Brooke said, keeping as still as possible. “I don't know, everything feels weird right now.”

“No shit,” Lucy commiserated, gently tilting Brooke's face away so she could scrutinize her work. “I don't know, Brooke, he sounds like a fuckboy.”

“I think I just judged him too quickly. That was wrong of me,” Brooke said. “He's actually really great!”

Lucy didn't say anything, merely capped the eyeliner and turned to get some aqua blue eyeshadow. 

“Really, he is!” She didn't even know if she was trying to convince Lucy or herself. “He _is_.”

“I never said he wasn't,” Lucy said, prompting Brooke to close her eyes for the eyeshadow application. “Maybe just... get to know him a bit, before you get too attached.”

“Yeah, I know. I mean, we're not even really _dating_. We just made out.”

“‘ _We just made out_ ,’” Lucy mocked, and Brooke could practically hear her roll her eyes. “Brookie, you missed a couple steps in there.”

“Whatever!”

“I'm just looking out for you,” Lucy said. “You're the closest I've got to a little sister, Brooke. I care about you, girl.”

“I know, I'm sorry... You're right, I'll be careful about it,” Brooke conceded. “You and Stan are the closest I have to older siblings too.”

“You know it, babe.” Another minute went by and Lucy said, “Mkay, done. You can open your eyes now.”

Brooke did as she was told, blinking as she came face to face with a mirror Lucy was holding up. She grinned; she looked _hot_. Lucy seemed satisfied with her creation as well. 

“Here, we gotta do a photoshoot for instagram,” Lucy said, getting to her feet and pulling out her phone. “C'mon, the koi pond will look stellar in the background. We gotta do this before it gets too dark out.”

In the middle of their photoshoot, Brooke was called into action. Lucy was irritated, still, she was used to the same song and dance from years past with her father as well, so she merely waved the girl off with an eye roll. As Brooke was flying away from the house once she was suited up, Lucy yelled, “You'd better tag me in those make-up photos!” Brooke laughed as she flew towards the denser area of the city. 

When a bank robbery was in progress with a potential hostage situation, the heroes had a very strict protocol: 

_DO NOT enter the building until you know all of the facts._

_DO NOT enter the building without a thoroughly thought out plan._

_DO NOT dismiss your fellow heroes and try to do everything yourself (unless no one else is there)._

_DO NOT engage in violence with hostages in the area (unless it is the last possible resort)._

_DO NOT allow the authorities to FUCK. IT. UP._

After Brooke, Retro, Quaker, and Sonnet had attempted to stop a robbery two years ago and had almost gotten one of the hostages killed, they had come together to set some ground rules. Reminders to confer and cooperate with each other instead of trying to go in solo. With bank robbers, solo never seemed to work out. The cops tried to take charge, but they never seemed to be on the same page as the superheroes, so it created more confusion and stumbling over each other than anything else. No, it was better that the four heroes took care of things themselves, before the police got too impatient, sent in SWAT, and ruined everything. 

Upon Brooke's arrival, she found that Sonnet and Retro were already there, conversing quietly in the alleyway as the police set up a blockade around the bank's entrance. Sonnet beamed and waved Brooke over to them. 

“Sunshine! Perfect timing,” she said. “We were just gathering intel. Oh! I love your make-up!”

“Oh! Uh, thanks.” 

Brooke had forgotten that the dark lipstick Lucy had applied was still visible. At least, her eyes were covered by her mask—she might die of embarrassment if Retro and Sonnet saw her full look. She looked good, of course, but it was vastly different to her usual look. 

“What do you have so far?” she asked, trying to wipe her lips harshly. 

“I tried pulling up the security feed on my visor,” Retro said, gesturing to his mask, “but they blacked everything out really fast. I'm thinking they must've had an inside man. I hacked into a hostage's phone and managed to turn on the camera—it's lying face down in the centre of the room, so the robbers must've ordered everyone to discard their phones. I've only caught glimpses of the robbers and I think there are four of them. They're wearing masks, all appear male, and one of them dragged a bank teller down to the vault, so I can only assume they're their inside man. I can't see any hostages from this angle, but I think there are several.”

“Shit, okay, this isn't good...” Brooke glanced around. “Have either of you seen Quaker, or...?”

They both shook their heads. 

“I haven't seen him around for a couple weeks, honestly,” Sonnet confessed, grimacing. Retro bobbed his head along in agreement. 

Brooke frowned. “That's weird, I just saw him last—”

A pained shriek came from within the bank foyer. The three teenagers exchanged frightened looks. They needed to get inside _now_. 

“Okay, Retro, can you cut the lights?” Brooke asked. He nodded, scampering off to find the fuse box. She turned to Sonnet. “Can you do some crowd control and hold the cops off until we're ready to bust in?” Sonnet nodded. “I'm gonna do recon, see if I can find another way in, other than the front door.”

They split and Brooke scoured the area. As she searched for a vent or door or window or _something_ , she wondered why Quaker hadn't been connecting with Retro or Sonnet. She saw him all the time! Though, come to think of it, she never really saw him in action anymore—they saw each other, but he always seemed to disappear before any fights broke out. Was he trying to get out of the hero business? 

She shook her head— _he wouldn't do that_ —and focused on the air duct she found on the roof of the bank. If they snuck through there, they could definitely surprise the robbers. It was probably their best bet. She poked her head over the edge, whistling to her friends, signalling that she had found a way in. 

Brooke flew down and grabbed Sonnet, who couldn't fly, carrying her up to the vent grate. They only needed to wait a few moments before they heard shouts of surprise from within the building after the power went out and Retro's grappling hook was shot over the ledge, yanking him up next to them. They nodded to each other and crawled into the duct. 

It didn't take long for them to find the main lobby and squint through the grate to survey the scene. There were eight hostages—three workers and five civilians—and two robbers with large guns watching over them. From what Retro had seen earlier from one of the hostage's phones, that meant there were two other robbers and an employee presumably down in the vault. The hostages all looked fearful and the robbers looked nervous, the darkness obviously putting them on edge. Sonnet mumbled that she was going to keep going through the vents and try to find the other robbers. Brooke and Retro nodded, knowing that with her sonokinetic abilities, Sonnet would be able to handle that situation herself. 

“Okay, you have smoke bombs, right? If we drop down and managed to disarm the—” Retro's breath hitched and she looked back over to him, just barely able to make him out in the darkness. “What?”

“Uh, nothing,” he said quickly. She quirked an eyebrow; it wasn't so dark that she couldn't see his hands clench into quivering fists. She didn't press. “Sounds like a good plan.”

“Cool. Let's go for it, then.”

Retro pulled out something that looked like a USB stick—when he dropped it through the slats of the grate, however, it began to emit thick smoke. Brooke grinned; she _loved_ his brand. As the robbers began coughing and twisting around blindly, searching for the threat, the two heroes dropped down from the vent. 

Brooke threw up a force field when the gunfight began, shielding herself and the hostages, while Retro somersaulted to the side and threw a sharp boomerang that was painted in a way that looked like a vinyl as it spun through the air. It knocked the weapons away from the robbers and flew back to him—he grinned as the smoke began to slowly fade. 

“ _Record_ timing!” he said, hopping to his feet and getting into a defensive stance. Brooke couldn't help but giggle at the awful pun. 

She pulled down the barrier of light and shot a couple photon blasts at one of the more burly looking masked men. He dodged the first blast, but was knocked unconscious by the second. Another blast had the second robber knocked out as well. Retro frowned, lowering his fists. 

“Hey, I could've taken him,” he muttered. 

“I'm sure you could've, but we need to make sure everyone is okay and then help Sonnet,” Brooke said, turning to the hostages behind her.

“Shit,” Retro gasped, darting to the side of a middle-aged Black woman with short curly hair. She was holding her leg painfully and Retro was whispering something to her, frantically examining her ankle. Brooke only caught part of his hushed conversation. “I'm so sorry, Mama, are you sure you're okay?”

_Was she his mom?_

Brooke shook herself and crouched next to another hostage, making sure they were all right. After a few moments of making sure no one was seriously injured, Brooke gently squeezed Retro's shoulder. He was still knelt by the same woman, worry etched clearly on his face. 

“Retro, we gotta check on Sonnet,” she urged. He hesitated, but after the woman nodded to him, he stood up. 

They headed down the back stairs, Brooke's hands glowing to illuminate their way. Upon reaching the vault, they found Sonnet standing triumphantly over unconscious men and tying the hands of a woman behind her back. 

“She was helping the robbers,” Sonnet explained, tightening the bonds around the woman's wrists. “Everyone upstairs is okay?”

“A broken ankle,” Retro said, quietly, “but that's the only major injury.”

Sonnet beamed. “Good! Good job, guys.” She high-fived each of them cheerfully. “We're a great team, y'know that?”

Brooke smiled as well, dragging one of the robbers to his feet as he slowly came to. “Yeah, we really are.”

After the hostages had all been checked over by paramedics and the robbers and accomplice had been detained, Retro made some excuse to leave—though Brooke thought he was probably going to see that one hostage woman (who-might-be-his-mother?) as her ankle was getting checked out in the hospital—which left Sonnet and Brooke alone. Sonnet didn't leave and Brooke was craving frozen yogurt; it only seemed logical to go together. 

As they sat in costume at a nearby Pinkberry, Sonnet said, “I heard about your big fights from yesterday.” Brooke nodded, mouth full of frozen goodness. “How are you doing? It sounded stressful.”

“It was,” Brooke admitted. “I think I'm feeling a bit better now? I talked with Retro about it and I, uh, was distracted by someone else later, so I think I'm doing okay. It was a lot, though, seeing someone die.”

“And saving the life of someone else,” Sonnet added, brightly. “Don't forget the good you did! I saw a video someone took—you were incredible, Sunny!”

Brooke smiled softly; she could always count on Sonnet for encouragement. “Thanks. I guess it's hard to remember when it's overshadowed by what happened a few hours later, y'know?”

Sonnet nodded. “I understand.”

“Like, I feel—” Brooke cut herself off. She wasn't quite sure how to put what she felt into words. “I feel...”

“Just say what's on your mind, Sunshine,” Sonnet said, patting her hand encouragingly. 

Brooke paused and then said, simply, “Guilty. I feel guilty about letting someone die, but I also feel guilty that I'm not appreciating the fact I also stopped another from dying.”

Sonnet nodded again, smiling kindly. “I completely understand how you would feel like that. This feeling won't last forever. One day, you will forgive yourself and remember how heroic you are.”

“Thank you, Sonnet,” Brooke whispered, trying not to cry at the words. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Know exactly what to say.” Brooke couldn't think of anyone else who was like Sonnet. “You always say the right thing.”

“Not _always_ ,” Sonnet objected, though she was clearly flustered, poking at her food with her spoon, “but I guess I just... I don't know. I just say what I think and I try to think about kind things. I value kindness a lot, so.” She shrugged, then smiled brightly. “My foster parents have a lot of influence too! They were the first people to show me what it was like to be loved. I don't want anyone else to ever feel unloved or unworthy like I used to, so it's important to me that I treat others with the same love and respect my parents give me.”

“That's so amazing,” Brooke said, sympathy and awe and respect and guilt flooding through her all at once. Sonnet had gone through so much and she only used her experience to help others? She was a better person than Brooke would ever be. 

“It's really not. It's the golden rule, y'know? But, thank you, Sunshine.” Sonnet punched her shoulder fondly. “I'm glad we're friends! This hero thing would suck without you.”

Brooke smiled. “Yeah. It really would.”

When she got home, the first thing she did was post the pictures Lucy took to instagram. 

**_brooke.lohst_** • _tried to think of a koi pun but came up empty lol_

_make-up + photo cred to the incredible @lucyeggers thanks baeee 😘_

The comments started rolling in immediately; Brooke felt her ego swell. 

**_lucyeggers_** _hawt!! 🔥_

**_chloevalentineofficial_ ** _😍 almost as sexy as i am!_

**_jakeydee_** _lookin' good brooke 😘_

**_dustin-k_ ** _pls call me back baby im srry_

**_rich.go.ranski_** _DAMN B!!! 🤯😍🔥_

**_stanley.egertonnnn_** _My sister did a good job for once! 🤯_

**_lucyeggers_** _@stanley.egertonnnn 🖕_

**_player2jheere_** _sexy as always 😘 ❤️_

She blushed at Jeremy's comment (she hadn't even realized he was following her?) and sent him a direct message. 

**_player2jheere_ **

_hey stranger 😊_

_hey 😘_

_can u send me those pics?_

_for research purposes_

_😘 ❤️_

_lol_

_maaaybe 😉_

_might need to convince me tho_

_oh dear_

_how will i ever do that? 😉_

_you'll think of something 😘_

_gn jeremy 💛_

_gn brooke ❤️_

Brooke clutched her phone to her chest as butterflies rioted in her stomach and a lovesick grin spread across her face. For once, she couldn't wait for school tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **NOTABLE NOTES:**  
>    
> I have plans to draw all the characters in their supersuits bc 🎶I suck at explaining them🎶 but also my laptop is broken so I can't do digital art so I might wait until then so it might be awhile aaahhh
> 
> So the Brooke Jeremy get together scene is obviously different!! Bc in this version of events, Brooke has a crush on Rich and is less concerned about her personal life stuff and more involved in superhero stuff. In case you're confused like "hey she literally hated him earlier and then they made out?????" it's bc, as stated in the actual musical, the SQUIP had been increasing Jeremy's pheromones, in an attempt to woo Christine, which didn't work, but I figured it would use that for Brooke along with the tear ducts. Hopefully that makes sense!!! Oh yeah and since Brooke didn't know Eminem died bc she was out doing hero stuff with Retro, it couldn't use that as a reason for her to comfort Jeremy, but she's just a sweetheart and wants to comfort crying people :')
> 
> The robbery scene will come back. I know it seems random now, but it connects I promise. And the Pinkberry scene is just bonding tbh lol
> 
> Hopefully this chapter made sense and you liked it!!!! Thank you for reading, I'm so so so excited about this fic and I'm well aware it's not going to get a lot of reads bc the main ship is Rich and Brooke, but y'know what I don't care I'm really really happy with it!!!!! 😄💜 Thanks again for reading, I love you all 🤗 ~Jayce


	3. Light Overcoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Okay, I started two BMC fics at the same time, so I'll write a chapter of RBC, then a chapter of TWBS, then back to RBC, then TWBS, etc.  
> Also me: *doesn't do that and only gets inspiration for TWBS instead*
> 
> Anyways, check out Remnants of a Burnt Child if you like Rich/Michael. It'll have more updates one day I promise 😂 I'm just on a TWBS kick rn
> 
> OH TRIGGER WARNING UHHHH RICH TALKS ABOUT SUICIDE AND SUICIDAL TENDENCIES/IDEATION DURING THE SECTION WHEN THEY'RE TALKING ABOUT SHORT STORIES IN ENGLISH CLASS! He says it's part of a fictional story he's writing, loosely based on the life of his older brother who took his own life years prior, but, uhhhh spoiler, it's kinda implied that it's about Rich not his brother so ANYWAYS

Brooke drove her sister to school whenever their mom didn't need her car for the day. Gracie's elementary school was up a hill in the opposite direction of the high school, and Brooke _hated_ backtracking, so whenever she needed to drive Gracie, she took a ridiculous route. Gracie used to complain and make fun of her—“It’s _so_ much longer and you don't even backtrack _that_ much if you went the normal way!”—but she had long since resigned to her fate and merely made banal conversation, if any. 

“How was yesterday?” Gracie asked, boredly. When Brooke didn't answer immediately, Gracie kicked the back of her chair. “Yo!”

“Gracie! This isn't _my_ car and that's _rude_ ,” Brooke snapped, glancing at the pest in the rear view mirror. “I'm trying to _not_ crash the car, thank you very much.”

“Maybe I wouldn't kick the seat if you'd let me sit in the front,” Gracie spat back, crossing her arms bitterly. 

“ _No_.”

“Fine. Just answer my freaking question!”

“ _Language_.”

“I said _freaking!_ ” Gracie kicked Brooke's chair again. “You say way worse words than that!”

“ _Gracie Harriet Lohst_.”

“ _Fine_. Could you _please_ answer my question?” Gracie's voice was dripping with sarcasm, but Brooke sighed and responded anyway. 

“Yesterday was fine, thank you.” Brooke signalled and made a left. “And how about you, Gracie?”

“You didn't really _answer_ —fine is _such_ a cop-out!” No response. Gracie pouted. “My yesterday was _fine_ , too. What did you _do_ yesterday?”

Brooke sighed reluctantly. “I visited my friend, Lucy, after school.”

“Which one's Lucy?”

“You haven't met her.”

“Why not?”

“She's busy.”

“Doing what?”

“She's in her first year of college.”

“How do you have friends in _college_? You're in high school.”

“Oh, look, we're here!” Brooke pulled up along the curb and unlocked the doors. “Bye, Gracie, have a good day!”

Gracie huffed, but muttered out a goodbye and hopped out of the car. Brooke sighed again and drove down the hill toward Middleborough High. She wasn't in the mood to talk about her personal life with a fifth grader. Some days, she loved her sister to death; other days, she wanted to _strangle_ her to death. She kept her eyes on the road, watching the schoolyard rapidly approach. 

Jeremy was outside the front doors when she pulled into the school's parking lot. He smiled and waved to her. She felt her heart flutter. _Had he waited for her?_

“Bonjour,” she greeted, playfully. He pulled her into a kiss and, though she hadn't been expecting it, she melted into his arms right away. Upon releasing her, she couldn't quite form coherent thought. “Wow...”

He took her hand impishly. “C'mon. We have some time before the first bell. I vote we make the most of it.”

She said nothing, just giggled and allowed him to lead her away. 

“What's your story about?” Rich asked. 

They were writing the rough draft of some creative writing assignment for English class—a short story about anything they wanted, as long as it was at least three pages and no more than six. Rich always complained about short stories, claiming they were too short for any idea he came up with and the criteria was too broad. Brooke didn't mind, seeing as she could barely get three pages written. 

“A girl who gets turned into a cat and has to figure out how to turn back,” she said, doodling a cat in the corner of her paper. 

“So... _The Shaggy Dog_ , but a cat?”

“I—” Brooke wheezed, shoving his shoulder harshly. “Shut up, Rich! It's—It's _different_!”

“ _Sure_ , Brooke.” 

She wanted to slap that shit-eating grin off his face. “Fine, what's _your_ story about, then?”

“A depressed kid who just wants to fit in, so he starts doing drugs and ends up in the popular crowd,” Rich explained, gesticulating as he spoke, “and for a while, he feels better, but eventually, he realizes he's still clinically depressed and none of his new friends really know or care about him as an individual, so he kills himself.”

“Goddamn.” Brooke didn't know what else to say. “That's dark.” Rich shrugged nonchalantly; Brooke was slightly horrified. “I'm afraid of how your brain works, Richard.”

“I like writing sad shit,” he said. “It's cool to make people feel emotions from words _I_ put together.”

“Huh.”

He nodded, tapping out a drum roll with his pencil. “I wanna add a plot twist, too. Not sure what yet.”

“Isn't the whole suicide thing plot twist enough?”

“Nah, you can see it coming a mile away, if you pay enough attention.” He began checking off signs on his fingers. “He's becoming disinterested in things that previously brought him a lot of joy, he's constantly fatigued, tells his friends and family he loves them way more often than usual, doesn't go out as much as he used to, his shades are always drawn, his mental imagery is getting darker... Yeah.” He glanced at Brooke. “Maybe I'll add a crush or something—something to give him hope—but then she falls for someone else.”

“Yikes, this kid's life sounds _awful_ ,” Brooke said, cringing. “How do you come up with this shit?”

“They say write about what you know,” he said, continuing his drum beat. Brooke blinked, aghast; how could he sound so calm when he basically admitted he felt like killing himself? He must've noticed her expression, because he added, soberly, “I'm talking about my older brother, B.”

 _Oh_. Brooke remembered that day, when Rich told her that his older brother had committed suicide. They were sitting together at lunch, just them—Chloe had been at home sick and Jake had some club meeting to attend to. He had quietly told her that it was the anniversary of Ray Goranski's death. She had listened as he reminisced on the days his brother had still been alive and hugged him tightly when stray tears escaped his eyes. He pretended he hadn't been affected by it, but she still embraced him. She missed being intimate with him, being vulnerable, being _real_. 

“And you're sure you want to write about that?” she asked, gently. 

“Yep,” he said, popping the _P_. “It'll be good to get it out of my system.” 

“Okay. But, if you _ever_ feel—”

“ _B_. I gotchu. I won't overexert myself or whatever. If I feel too sad, I'll write something else.” He grinned, punching her shoulder lightly. “Be more chill, c'mon.”

She laughed. “Fine. Wanna help me with my cat story? I really don't know how to end it.”

“Yeah! Look, I have a great idea for a plot twist you could incorporate...”

She had just finished eating lunch and was pretending to listen to Jeremy talk—she was gonna be honest, they didn't have that much in common—when she heard a ringtone coming from her bag. She sat up and rifled through her school supplies, until she realized that it wasn't her cellphone ringing—it was her _burner_ phone. She swung her legs over the seat, kissing Jeremy on the cheek as she said, “ _I gotta go take this, I'll be back, Jerry_!” and rushed off towards the cafeteria doors. 

On her way out, she bumped into a boy in a red hoodie, nearly knocking him to the floor. She grabbed his arm to help steady him. 

“Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!” she said, hurriedly. “I wasn't watching where I was going.”

“Clearly,” the boy spat, sardonically. 

Brooke was taken aback at how he glared at her. “Dude, I didn't mean to, I'm _sorry_.”

His expression didn't change. He secured his headphones to his ears, muttered something under his breath that she couldn't decipher, and then stormed away. She glanced back for a moment—confused and rather affronted—but then remembered the reason for her rush in the first place. She pushed the headphones boy out of her mind and pushed into the girls' bathroom. 

After a quick check of the stalls, she whipped out her burner and answered, “This is Sunshine.”

“ _This is Dr. Cheung at the Middleborough Mental Health Centre. I was instructed to call you about Harrison Dau. He was the young man you saved from his suicide attempt the other day._ ”

“Oh, thank you, Doctor! Is he all right?”

“ _Physically, yes. Mentally is another story. Now, he's actually not sound of mind enough to talk to you, however, his brother is here and he would like to speak with you._ ”

“Oh, okay. Now, or...?”

“ _He insisted as soon as possible. However, if you're busy, that's understandable_ —”

“Nope, I can be there in—” Brooke realized she had no idea where the Mental Health Centre was. “Soon,” she amended, quickly pulling out her iPhone to google directions. “Thank you for calling me, Dr. Cheung.”

“ _Of course. I'll see you soon, then_.”

“Goodbye.” 

Brooke sighed, shoving the burner back to the bottom of her backpack. Great, her first school day with a new boyfriend and she already had to ditch him. She shot him a quick text— _hey jere my lil sis got sick so i gotta pick her up early can u tell my teachers 4 me? thx!_ —before she locked herself in a stall to get changed. 

Upon gingerly pushing open the door, she was met by the gunman— _Harrison_ , she reminded herself, it felt wrong just referring to him as some guy who held a gun at one point—slumbering peacefully in a bed and another boy sitting anxiously in the chair next to him. He jumped to his feet immediately and held out his hand, crossing the room swiftly. 

“Sunshine. I'm Aiden Dau.” They shook hands and he ran his hands through his hair worriedly. “I think I know how this happened.”

“What do you mean?” Brooke asked gently. 

“How he got like this!” Brooke hesitated; he frowned. “You think I'm just wishful thinking.”

“Look, I understand you must be in distress,” she began slowly, “but clinical depression—”

“He didn't have depression!” Aiden yelled, fists clenched. Brooke closed her mouth. He inhaled, breath shaky. “Harry didn't have depression.”

“Okay,” Brooke said. She wasn't convinced, but she leaned against the wall, arms crossed, ready to hear him out. 

“Harry was really bad at school,” Aiden said. “He got D's in, like, everything! Not that he wasn't smart, he just had trouble concentrating and—and remembering stuff. But then, when he was in grade ten, he came home one day and was completely different. He—he was all _confident_ and _excited_! He told me not to tell _anyone_ , not even _Ba_ or _Má_ , and honestly, I thought he was pulling my leg. But now? I think he was being serious.” He glanced around the room nervously, then leaned forward and whispered, “He got a SQUIP.”

“A... squid,” Brooke repeated, blankly. “Like, I've heard that's in cuisine of some Asian cultures, right?”

“ _No_! I mean, yes, but no. Not a _squid_ —a _SQUIP_. It's an acronym,” he explained in a hushed tone. “It stands for Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor. It's a supercomputer in a pill that gets implanted in your brain and tells you what to do. It helps you with—helps you do whatever you want!”

Brooke nodded hesitantly. “Okay. Okay, cool, um—”

“No, no, no, I _swear_ I'm telling the truth!” He looked desperate. “He just started at Harvard! Like—like, how is that even possible to go from straight D's to Harvard? He was—he, like—he just wanted to do well at school! That's all he wanted, he never wanted any of this insane shit!” Aiden's fists shook and tears rolled down his cheeks. “He never wanted to be controlled, he just wanted to pass his classes...”

“So,” Brooke said slowly, trying to wrap her head around everything this boy was saying, “you're saying that your brother was toting a gun around, in the middle of a residential street, threatening a crowd of people, and attempted to shoot himself because, what, he likes having an AI in his head?”

“No.” Brooke raised an eyebrow; Aiden swallowed and stepped closer. “He tried to shoot himself to get it _out_.”

He looked so distraught, so desperate for her to believe him—she wanted to, but it just didn't make _sense_. All of the signs pointed to mental illness. She didn't like calling people crazy when they were obviously going through a mental health crisis, but... She frowned, remembering what Harrison had said, before he tried to take his own life. _He says! He's in here!_ He had seemed so sure that there was someone in his head, speaking to him... 

“Look,” Brooke said, “I can't say I believe you right now, _but_ I'm going to consult Retro and do some digging—something weird is going on in this city and whatever it is, whether a SQUIP or something else, I'm going to get to the bottom of it.”

Aiden nodded, relief spreading across his face. “Thank you. That's all I'm asking. Just, please,” he took her hands urgently, “please look into what I told you.”

“I will.” She squeezed his hands reassuringly. “I promise.”

She realized her lie fell through after she returned to school to get changed and pick up her car and found Rich leaning against the hood. She stopped and the two just stared at each other. His arms were crossed as he stood there—not smirking or glaring, just blankly watching her. 

“Um, I can explain,” she said quietly, but he held up a hand. 

“I don't care why you lied to your little boytoy. Just—I need to get out of here.” She could hear the quiet plea in his voice. “I won't say anything to—to Chloe or Jeremy or anyone.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

They were silent as she started up the car and pulled out of the parking lot. She glanced over at him; he stared out the passenger side window, chin resting on his fist, expression neutral. She thought about asking him what was wrong. She didn't, knowing he would tell her when he was ready. She pulled into a McDonald's drive-thru. 

“I'm buying,” she said, batting Rich's hand away as he reached for his wallet. She ordered their usual meals—Rich smiled softly when she remembered his order—and then drove towards a nearby park. Once they were parked, she turned to him and said, “All right, spill.”

He shook his head, sipping his coke. “Nuh-uh. You first.”

“Fine.” She paused and ate a chicken nugget, collecting her thoughts. “I just—I got some bad news. A friend of mine, his brother was admitted into a mental hospital earlier this week. He was that guy that Sunshine saved on Monday, apparently. I didn't feel like sticking around—I was gonna ditch earlier, when I texted Jeremy, but then I stayed in the bathroom for a while to think through stuff. Now, we're here.” She shrugged. “We weren't super close friends or anything, and I barely knew his brother, but it's just—it's kinda jarring to hear when crazy shit like that happens, even to acquaintances, y'know?” He nodded and she nudged him gently. “Your turn.”

“Just tired.” She gave him a pointed look. “I know, it sounds lame, but... Yeah. Tired.” He shrugged. “I feel like a corpse, y'know?”

“I get it,” she said, gently. “Did you not sleep well last night?”

“I guess not,” he mumbled, looking down at his hands. He took a fry and dipped it in his ice cream cone. She stuck her tongue out playfully. “Shut up, it's good!”

“I know, I know, you weirdo.” She swiped a fry and popped it in her mouth, grinning. 

“Dude, you have your _own fries_!”

“Things always taste better stolen,” she said, solemnly. He grabbed one of her chicken nuggets and she grinned. “See?”

They stayed like that for a while, chatting and joking and stealing food and lifting spirits. Brooke hummed contentedly, head tilted, expression soft, just smiling at Rich. She loved moments like this, where she could forget about the stresses of school or superhero responsibilities and just _be_. Now, she wasn't Sunshine—she was Brooke, she was a human being, and she simply _existed_. She wished she had more time like this.

Of course, she couldn't ignore her real life forever. She was well aware that she needed to pick Gracie up for real soon, and that Jeremy had a date planned for them that evening, and that she needed to research SQUIPs. But, for the moment, she allowed herself to sit in the bliss of pure, unadulterated laziness. 

For once, she was just a teenager. 

_Your search -_ **_squip_ ** _\- did not match any documents._

_Suggestions:_

  * _Make sure that all words are spelled correctly._


  * _Try different keywords._


  * _Try more general keywords._



_Did you mean:_

**_squid squib script scribd_ ** _?_

Brooke frowned at her laptop screen, as though seeing her displeasure could affect the search results. It was 2019, how could _anything_ exist without being documented online? Aiden had been insistent, yet it didn't seem _possible_. 

There was a knock on her door. She slammed her laptop shut and yelled, “Yeah?”

Her mother opened the door, leaned in the doorway, and said, “So, when were you going to tell me you have a boyfriend now?”

Brooke glanced at her alarm clock and jumped to her feet. “Fu—fudge,” she amended quickly, scrambling to gather her purse. “Fudge, fudge, fudge! Is he here now?”

Mom nodded. “Seems like a pleasant young man.”

“Mhm.” Brooke lifted her books and set them down again, looking around frantically. Where _was_ her phone? Dammit. “I was gonna tell you, Mom, it's a really new thing and I lost track of time and—”

“Brookie.” 

Her mom gestured to her sweater hanging on the doorknob; her phone was in the pocket. Brooke kissed her on the cheek, ready to rush downstairs, but she grabbed her arm. 

“Be home by 10,” she said, sternly. Brooke nodded fervently. “Use protection.”

“ _Mom_!”

“I'm serious, Brooke!”

“We're _not_ gonna have sex, Mom.”

“Uh huh.”

“We're not!”

“Okay, Brookie. Now, when are you going to be home?”

“10 pm.”

“Good girl.” Mom kissed her on the forehead, then pushed her down the hall. “Go get your man.”

She stumbled down the steps and appeared brightly in front of Jeremy. He smiled at her and held out a bouquet. She gasped excitedly, taking the flowers gratefully. 

“OM _G_ , Jeremy!” She hugged him tightly, beaming. “You are the sweetest!”

“Only the best for you,” he said, poking her side affectionately. 

Once she had found a vase and deposited the flowers into it, she took his hand and swung it as she locked the door behind them. “So,” she said, as they walked down the driveway towards his dad's car, “where are we going?”

“The Keg,” he said, grinning slyly. She gasped again and shook his arm enthusiastically. He laughed and kissed her quick. “C'mon, let's go.”

She slid into the passenger door, SQUIPs all but forgotten. 

At school, their relationship consisted of mainly making out—not that Brooke was entirely complaining—but it was nice just sitting with him and _talking_. Albeit, they still didn't have a lot in common and his responses felt a bit forced awkward, she still enjoyed acting like humans as opposed to love interests in a shitty teen romance novel. 

“No way, really?” She laughed as he shared a funny anecdote that she thought might be from tumblr. She wasn't about to ask—it's not like she hadn't stolen stories from the internet as well. “You're _so_ funny, Jeremy!”

He grinned at her, tilting his head in a way that reminded her of Rich. _Stop it!_ she berated herself. _You can't think about your crush while you're literally on a date with your boyfriend!_ She reached across the table to hold his hand. He held it loosely, rubbing his thumb over her palm. She melted into the touch, a dopey smile on her face. 

Just as he opened his mouth to speak again, there was a humongous crash. She screamed as a man clad in spandex stepped through the giant hole he'd created in the wall. She could see people injured around where he had blasted the wall open and he was grinning evilly, yelling about people handing over their cash. She had to do something. 

She reached into her purse and then froze. A memory of her supersuit very clearly being left in the bottom of her school bag flashed before her eyes. _Shit_. Of all the days to leave it behind... 

“We need to get out of here,” Jeremy said urgently, tone hushed. 

“Hey! Shut up!” the supersuit-clad man shouted angrily. His eyes glowed red. “Vexterminator is talking now!”

“ _Vexterminator_? Well, _that's_ a shitty name!”

Brooke couldn't help but grin with relief at Retro's shout. He jumped through the crumbling wall, posing heroically for a moment before he dove out of the way, avoiding Vexterminator's laser eyes. Brooke knew she couldn't just leave him here to fight a supervillain alone—it had been months since a honest-to-god _super_ villain showed up—but how could she ditch Jeremy without him catching on? 

They both ducked as Vexterminator spun around, lasers cutting through the air. She shoved Jeremy towards the bathrooms. 

“Go! I'll be right behind you!” 

He nodded and scampered off. She let out a sigh of relief once he was in the men's washroom; now that he was safe for the time being, she needed to help Retro. She somersaulted over to the same table he was hiding behind. She hissed his name. He glanced over to her, surprised. 

“You need to get out of here!” he commanded, obviously under the assumption she was a normal civilian. “This is _not_ something you can help with.”

“Oh, is it not?” She jumped to her feet and shot a photon blast at the villain. He stumbled backwards; she ducked back down before his laser vision could fry her in half. “I happen to think I can.”

“Sunshine?” he asked, voice wobbling. She nodded. “Shit! Dammit, fuck—I didn't realize—”

“Yeah, that's the fucking point of a secret identity,” she said, slight acid coating her words, despite a teasing tone. “But I think we have more pressing matters to attend to.”

“Yeah. Yeah, um, yeah. Shit.” He pulled out what looked like a GameCube—he threw it and it exploded upon impact with Vexterminator. The villain fell over, dazed yet still conscious. “Damn, this guy is _jacked_ , apparently.”

“ _Apparently_ ,” Brooke echoed, mockingly. She grimaced. “We gotta end this fight sooner than later—look.”

The pillars scattered around the dining area were damaged, instability increasing by the second. The building was going to come down on top of them if this guy got a few more laser beams in. She exchanged a look with Retro; they needed to pull themselves together. 

“Do you have anything with a stronger blast?” she asked, plan formulating.

“Uh, yeah, but that'll injure the civilians around him and probably the building's infrastructure!” he said, voice rising. “ _That won't work, Brooke_!”

“Not unless I capture him in a force field before it detonates,” she said, cracking her knuckles. “I could contain it.”

“Are you _sure_?” Retro asked, startled. 

“I have to be,” she muttered. Then she sat up straighter, looking him in the eyes. “Do it.”

“Okay...” He pulled out another GameCube, this time bright red. He nodded resolutely and stood again. “Hey, Ugly!” Vexterminator was just getting to his feet and he whipped his head to face Retro. “Take _this_!”

Brooke jumped to her feet as well, manifesting a force field around the blast zone and digging her heels into the floor. As soon as the stun blast went off, she grit her teeth tight and felt as though she were within the light barrier with the villain, her hair flying wildly behind her and forceful air pushing against her body. She knew it was just her body reacting with her force field, trying to absorb the momentum of the explosion, but it felt so _real_. Still, she stood her ground, even as she was being pushed backwards and her heels made deep drag marks in the floor. Finally, she released her power and fell to her knees in exhaustion. Vexterminator was knocked out cold. 

“Broo—I mean, Sunshine! Are you all right?” Retro asked, darting to her side. She nodded, panting and closing her eyes. “You did awesome,” he whispered, putting his arms around her shoulders supportively. “You did so well, dude, that was—”

“How do you know my name?” Brooke asked suddenly, her brain finally catching up with the conversation. 

“Oh.” Retro was silent for a moment. “Look, maybe we should talk about stuff...”

“I—I need to find Jeremy,” she said, suddenly. Retro blinked, but nodded. “I—after, I'll—I don't know, I—”

“I'll delete everyone's videos of tonight,” Retro said quietly, “so your identity won't be compromised.”

“Thanks,” Brooke murmured. She forced herself to her feet—she was aching all over, everything hurt—and stumbled to the men's bathroom. “Jeremy?” she called, knocking on the door. “The fight's over! Are you okay?”

“Brooke?” He sounded so _fine_ —Brooke wasn't sure what to think of that. He pushed open the door and hugged her tightly. “Oh my god, I'm so glad you're okay!”

“I was in the women's washroom,” Brooke explained tiredly, allowing herself to lean her entire weight into his embrace. She was _so tired_. “I think—I think I'm gonna walk home.”

“Are—are you _sure_?” he asked, rubbing her back and struggling to keep her upright. 

“Yes. I need fresh air and my house isn't _that_ far,” she said. She planted her feet and forced herself to stand of her own volition. “That was—it was a lot. I need to be alone right now. I'm sorry, Jerry...”

“If you're sure,” he said, entirely unconvinced. She nodded, kissing his cheek. “Okay. I'll see you at school tomorrow, I guess.”

“Yeah. Thank you, Jeremy. This was lovely. Before all the, uh, the hiding from a supervillain shit.” They embraced once more and she waved him off. “Au revoir, Jere Bear!”

She slumped against the wall, letting out a long breath. That was the last time she used her force fields for the brunt of an impact like _that_. She faintly heard Jeremy's car start and pull out of the parking lot. She exhaled again and walked back over to Retro, arms crossed. 

“So.”

He looked up at her from where he was tending to a woman who had been at the epicenter of where the wall exploded—she seemed dazed, perhaps concussed, but fine. He finished bandaging her head and stood to face Brooke. 

“We should go somewhere else.”

“Where?” Brooke asked, pulling her bag more securely over her shoulder. People were staring at her—Retro may have been able to wipe their video footage, but not their minds—and she let her hair fall over her face. She couldn't believe she had done that. The biggest breach of her identity and it was in the middle of _The Keg_. 

“I—my car is a couple blocks away, we can start there,” he said quietly. She nodded. He led her out of the restaurant, passing through the parking lot and heading down a grassy hill, just as the cops were pulling up to the scene. “Just over here.”

He gestured to an old PT Cruiser parked by the sidewalk. It was a dusty red colour and seemed to have a convertible top—she liked it. Unconventional as it was, it suited him. She timidly slid into the passenger seat. 

“Okay, this is weird,” Retro said with a sigh. Then, he removed his visor and pulled down his hood. She gaped, realizing she recognized him; he was the boy who she had accidentally bumped into at lunchtime. “Hi. I'm Michael Mell.”

He held out his hand to shake and she took it. It felt far too formal. “Uh, Brooke. Lohst. But, um, I guess you knew that.”

He nodded, slumping in his seat. “Yeah. Uh, sorry about lunch. I was—I just—It wasn't about you,” he said, stiffly. “You didn't do anything wrong. I was mad at you, but I shouldn't have been.”

“Why?” she asked. “I don't think we've literally ever talked outside of Retro and Sunshine.”

“Jeremy,” he muttered, face contorting into malice. Before Brooke could repeat her previous question, he clarified, “Remember that best friend I talked about? The one who was ignoring me? Yeah.”

“Oh.” Brooke glanced at her lap. “Well... Remember that kid who just appeared in my friend group and I was jealous of? Yep. That's him.”

“But you're dating him now?” Michael asked, incredulously. 

“I guess I am,” Brooke said. “I don't know. Everything feels weird.”

“How so? I mean, _yeah_ , but, like, what do you mean, specifically?”

“I really wasn't into him at all, but then he was acting all cute the other day and we kinda made out and we really have nothing in common but he was the only boy who gave me attention and it felt _nice_. But...” She shook her head. “It also feels weird and wrong and I don't know. I don't think I _like_ him. I think I just like the feeling of being liked, y'know?”

“Shit.” Michael stared through the windshield. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “At least he's a nice guy, I guess.”

“Can't be that nice if he ditched you,” Brooke pointed out, frowning. “He's, like, a chill guy, I guess, but I don't know... I don't think, after tonight, I should keep seeing him.”

“I mean, don't let me stop you,” Michael said. “He's—I'm—I don't know. I still care about him a lot, y'know? I'm fucking _furious_ at him, but I still want him to be happy.” He glanced at Brooke curiously. “Are you—I mean—do you think he's happy with you?”

Brooke took a moment to think. He seemed... _fine_. He always smiled when he saw her, gave her the PDA she so desperately craved, said nice things sometimes, but... 

“I don't know,” she answered, truthfully. “I guess he doesn't seem _excited_ to see me? Like, kinda just ‘ _oh hey wow you're here and I generally enjoy your presence!_ ’ but not, like, ‘ _you're my girlfriend and I love being around you and that's why we're dating!_ ’” She played with her purse. “Does that make sense?”

Michael nodded thoughtfully. “Look... I'm gonna be honest with you, because we're friends—or, I guess, Sunshine and Retro are friends, at least—but Jeremy has, like, a _major_ crush on someone else.” He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “Maybe that changed, I don't know, but he was kinda obsessed with her.”

Right. _Of course_. She was just a stepping stone to some other girl. Why would Jeremy like _her_ more than someone else? No one ever saw her first... 

“Thanks, Michael,” she said, leaning her head back to stare at the retractable ceiling. “I needed that honesty. Which, I guess, is crazy coming from me, the secret superhero freak.”

“We're in the same boat, Brooke,” Michael said, lightly. 

She chuckled, tilting her head to face him, smiling softly. “And, hey, Michael? I think that Michael and Brooke can be friends too, not just Sunshine and Retro.”

He returned her smile, appreciatively. 

She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Not to cut this short, or whatever, but I'm actually, like, dead on my feet and should probably go home...”

“Oh! Yeah, of course, um, do you want a ride?”

“Oh, no, you don't have to—”

“I'm _offering_.” Before Brooke could politely decline, he pulled on his seatbelt and put the keys in the ignition. “I'm driving you home. What's your address?”

Brooke giggled, rolling her eyes fondly. She gave her address and let Michael drive through the suburbs. Once they reached her house, she didn't get out immediately. 

“I just wanted to say thank you,” she said, genuinely. “For—for listening to me, and not hating me, and protecting my identity, and—and shit.”

“And shit,” he echoed. Tentatively, he held up his fist. “Are we cool?”

Brooke smiled, bumping her knuckles against his. “Very cool.” She unbuckled and clambered out of the car. Before slamming the door, she leaned back and added, “I'll see you at school tomorrow, Michael.”

He smiled as well. “See you tomorrow, Brooke.”

_New Follower: mmichaelmmellp1_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **NOTES NOTES NOTES NOTESNOTESNO—**
> 
> Is Rich's short story REALLY about his brother? 😌✨ I guess we'll find out 😌✨
> 
> Obviously, in this fic, Jeremy and Brooke's relationship is not taking the same route as the musical. The way I've chosen to expand on Brooke's character, including the incorporation of her superhuman persona and also her blatant crush on Rich, has caused a significant plot shift away from the musical, at least, in regards to both the romantic and platonic relationships displayed. Hopefully everything will make sense and be enjoyable to read!! 
> 
> Also I love Brooke+Michael friendship 😌✨💜 
> 
> Uhhh I think those are my notes for today, thank you for reading especially since, like, nobody is 😂 but I LIKE THIS FIC AND THAT'S ALL THAT MATTERS 😤🙌🎉😎 Anyways, I love you all, byeeee ~Jayce


	4. Dimming Glow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I adore this story? Because I do 😌✨

Despite what she had told him the evening prior, Brooke didn't go to school the next morning. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and frankly, she didn't want to face Jeremy. Now that she wasn't sure if he even _liked_ her, she felt even _more_ guilty about their relationship. She needed to process everything before she saw him again. 

Her mother bought into the fib that she was sick (“Really, Brooke, no more dates on a school night!”) and she texted her friends some vague apologies about not being there. They each responded with an equally unemotional quip, except for Rich. While she found it slightly out of character, she ignored it. He had no obligation to answer her texts. 

However, an hour after her mother had dropped Gracie off and left for work, she heard a holler of, “ _YO, BROOKE!_ ” from outside. 

She yanked her window open and gawked at the boy standing in her front yard. “ _Rich_?”

“You know it!” He shot finger guns in her direction, then pointed to his car in the driveway. “C'mon! We're going out for breakfast!”

She didn't bother arguing. After making sure Parker had food and water, she slipped on some comfortable clothes and fled the house. Once she was sitting in shotgun of Rich's truck, she turned to face him. 

“You should be at school,” she said, wearily. He shrugged, grinning impishly. 

“I don't give a shit about school.”

“You should. At least, a little bit,” she said, sensibly. “High school fucking sucks, but graduating is important.”

Rich shrugged again, turning the keys in the ignition. “Fuck school.”

“So, why are you here?” Brooke asked, changing the subject. She could tell she was getting nowhere with the topic of education. “Like, why are you taking me out for breakfast?”

“You're sad,” he said plainly. He glanced her way for a moment before fixating on the road. She was surprised that he could tell, just from her text. 

“Thanks, Rich,” she said, fiddling with her hands in her lap. “I—I don't want to talk about it, though.”

“I wasn't gonna ask.” He flipped the turn signal. “I'm just taking you to Denny's. And _no_ , you can't pay. It's on me.”

“Rich, Denny's is significantly more expensive than McDonald's, I can't make you—”

“You're not _making_ me do anything; I'm doing this because I want to.” His expression contorted to one of agitation, before flashing back to his resting face. She raised an eyebrow, but he didn't notice. “Anyways, Denny's is, like, _the_ _shit_. Perfect food for sad days.”

“Okay. Thanks, R.”

“No problem, B.”

It didn't take long for them to reach their destination and get seated. Rich ordered a Sprite, much to Brooke's chagrin (“It's 9:30 in the fucking morning, Richard.”), and Brooke, like any sensible person, ordered a water. As they perused the breakfast menu (Brooke had to physically restrain herself from strangling the smaller boy when he joked about ordering a steak), Rich asked her if she had heard the rumours. 

“Hm?” She glanced over the laminate menu. _Did she want pancakes? The Slamwich looked really good, though..._ “What rumours?”

“I heard,” he said, lowering his voice and leaning forward conspiratorially, “that last night, at that restaurant fight with Vexterminator, Sunshine accidentally revealed her secret identity.”

Brooke gasped, as though it were news to her. “ _So_? Who is she, then?”

“I don't know. It's only eyewitness accounts and shit, no one got a video or picture or _anything_!” 

“Oh. So, it might not even be true,” she said, frowning. She pushed her shame of exposing herself to the back of her mind. What's done was done and no one really knew it was her; no one in the restaurant knew her name except Jeremy—who had been in the bathroom—and Michael—who wouldn't reveal it, for obvious reasons. 

“But, like, there are ten different people all making the same claims!” He gesticulated excitedly as he spoke— _cute, cute, cute!_ “They all agree that she's blonde and was wearing a black dress and some fancy fucking brand of boots—”

Brooke laughed. “Anyone can tell she's blonde,” she pointed out, “and tons of girls could've worn a black dress and boots to a dinner at The Keg. Sorry, it's just pretty vague.”

“I guess,” he huffed, leaning back against the booth. 

“Why d'you care so much, anyways?” she asked, curiously. “What difference does it make, who she is under the mask?”

“I just wanna be able to know,” he said, shrugging and—was that a _blush_? “I kinda idolize her, you know.” 

“Right... I guess that makes sense.” Brooke's eyes flitted back down to the menu. “I guess it just feels like an invasion of privacy or something? Like, they wear masks for a reason, right? So, trying to find out who they are feels kinda... I don't know.” He looked so guilty when she met his gaze again and she quickly added, “I don't think you've done anything _wrong_ or—or that it's bad to _want_ to know! I just think—I don't know—that you shouldn't seek it out? I don't know.” She hated making him feel bad. She hid behind her menu again. “Sorry, I shouldn't've said anything...”

“No, no, it's okay—it's _good_ ,” he insisted. “That's a really valid opinion and I hadn't really thought about it that way before. It's good to, like, take into consideration other opinions that may combat your beliefs and think critically about things.”

Brooke blinked. The way Rich would just spout out insanely intelligent shit... “You're literally the smartest person I know,” she said, smile growing. 

“Thanks, Brooke!” Sadness tugged at the corners of his eyes and his smile seemed forced. “Don't tell Jake, but... I think you're my best friend.”

Brooke felt her heart leap. “Don't tell Chloe, but you're my best friend, too.”

“I love you,” he said, solemnly. _Platonically_ , her brain prodded. 

“I love you, too, Rich,” she said, trying not to sound too sappy. “Seriously, you're my favourite person in the world.”

“Really?” 

He sounded so sad, so skeptical, so longing... Brooke instantly jumped to reassure him. 

“Of _course_ , you are! You _know_ you are. I wouldn't lie to you.”

His expression fell— _she frantically wondered what she had said wrong_ —and he stated again, “I love you so much, B,” before turning back to his menu. She took that as her cue to do the same. 

They ended up sitting on a grassy hill together, staring out across the expanse of the urban park, just watching the clouds and the people stroll by. Brooke absorbed the rays of sun, feeling refreshed and energized. She lay back, staring up at the rolling clouds above. 

“Thanks for today, Rich,” she said. “This was really nice.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, which turned into a tune that Brooke didn't recognize. She closed her eyes, listening to his humming drown in the lull of the world around them. There was movement next to her and she realized Rich had laid down too. 

She opened her eyes and rolled onto her side, looking at him fondly. He rolled to face her as well. She could kiss him, right now, it wouldn't be hard... 

He jolted unexpectedly and she sat up straight, fearfully. The way his body had convulsed was almost identical to the woman who had died in that Microsoft store only the other day. Was Rich having a seizure? 

“Sorry, uh, I don't know wha— _shit_!” He grabbed his head, jolting upright. Her hands hovered around him worriedly, unsure if she should touch him or not. “I'm all right,” he said, panting slightly. “I—I think—I'm not— _I'm sorry!_ ” He met her eyes, with the saddest expression Brooke had ever seen. “I'm not feeling great, I think I need to go home...”

“Oh, yeah, of course, Rich! Don't feel bad about that,” she assured him, carefully helping him to his feet. He was unsteady, eyes glazed over. “Shit, uh, give me your keys. You're in no state to drive; I'll drive you back home then walk to my house from there. No arguing, c'mon.”

It took her a few minutes to get used to the feel of his truck—she had only ever driven her mother's car before, she didn't realize how different a pickup truck would be—but soon enough, they were on the road towards Rich's house. He only lived a few blocks away from Brooke, but the contrast in their neighbourhoods was undeniable. While Brooke's house was tidy and relatively new, Rich's was rundown and noticeably aged. The houses surrounding his were all in a similar state of disrepair. There were some that looked less decrepit and more _lived-in_ , and bore a charming feel—but then, there were some, Rich's included, that were completely unkempt. His in particular had two visibly boarded up windows, an overgrown lawn, a broken garage door, drab and faded colour scheme, falling shingles, little to no decor... 

It looked _dead_. 

“Thanks for driving, Brooke,” he said, as she put the car into park and turned to face him. His eyes didn't shine; he looked a lot like his house. “Love you. You're the best.”

“Love you, too,” she said, wondering when he had started to say _I love you_ to his friends so much. It made her head feel warm and fuzzy. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yep.” 

“Very convincing, Richard.” He didn't even crack a smile. She felt her stomach drop; something was _wrong_. “Rich... What's wrong?”

“Nothing, B. Don't worry about it.” He yanked open the door, sliding out of the truck. “Thanks again for everything. I love you so much.”

Something was wrong, something was wrong, something was _wrong_ —

“Rich, I'm _serious_. I'm worried about you!” she said, raising her voice and slammed the driver's door behind her. “You can tell me anything, you know that? Please.”

“I'm _fine_!” Brooke stepped back; he had never really snapped at her before. His angry immediately dissipated and he sighed, picking at his nails until he jolted and stood up straighter. “I'm sorry, Brooke, I shouldn't—but I _just_ —I really _am_ okay.”

“Okay.” She shifted on her feet, gripping at the hem of her shirt. “I'm sorry for pushing. I just—I really care about you, y'know?”

He nodded. “Love you, B. Thanks for today. I'll see you at the party tomorrow.”

Right, _Halloween_ was tomorrow, meaning _Jake Dillinger's Annual Spooktacular Halloween Extravaganza_ was tomorrow. Life had been so crazy recently that she had forgotten. She and Jeremy had planned to go together—was that still her plan? She didn't know. 

“Yeah, I'll see you, then,” she replied, hugging him tightly before allowing him to head into his house and she began the trek towards her own home. 

She was bopping around the kitchen, making herself some lunch as Ben Platt belted _Stay With Me_ by Sam Smith—the best version of that song, in her opinion (it was _Ben Platt_ , for crying out loud)—from their Google Home. She twirled, feeling like the tiled floor was her stage and Parker was her audience. She sang and danced, exhilarated from her _broadway faves !!!!! 😍😍😍_ playlist on YouTube. 

Her burner phone rang shrilly, startling her back into the real world, where she wasn't just a girl in a kitchen with a dog—she was a superhero with superpowers and responsibilities. She fumbled with it, yelling, “Hey Google! Pause!” before flipping open the phone with an out-of-breath, “This is Sunshine?”

“ _Hello, ma'am. This is Kelly Rojas, with the coroner's office._ ” Brooke took a second to process those words. _Coroner's office?_ Her breath hitched audibly and Kelly continued, “ _I'm calling about Janet Brewster. She passed away a few days ago, after yourself and Retro apprehended her._ ”

“Oh.” 

_Janet_. She had a _name_ now—it felt so much more real. She was a _real person_ who _really died_ and Brooke _couldn't save her_ —!

“ _I got your number from a colleague of mine, who got it from a Dr. Cong Cheung—I thought you may want to be updated on Janet's official autopsy. There was an... unusual development._ ”

“Oh, okay...”

“ _She died from electrocution._ ”

Brooke felt a chill run across her body. _Electrocution_? How had that even happened? Just from her snapping tablets over her head? 

“ _The strangest part is,_ ” Kelly continued, “ _that it appears to have been internal._ ”

“ _What_?” Brooke asked, incredulously. “Is that even _possible_?”

“ _It's like nothing I've ever seen before. I've been browsing an international database and they do see this occasionally in Japan, but this seems to be one of the first instances in America._ ”

Brooke's mind was racing, thoughts whirling by far too quickly for her to decipher. All sense had flown out the window. Parker seemed to sense her distress and leapt up, resting her front paws on Brooke's thighs, staring up at her with a head tilt. Brooke absentmindedly scratched behind the dog's ears. 

“ _Anyways, this seemed like a phenomenon that might be beneficial to you,_ ” Kelly said. “ _I hope I could be a help rather than a hindrance._ ”

“Thank you, _yes_ , you've definitely been a big help,” Brooke said, pushing Parker off of her and beginning to pace the kitchen. “This—yeah. It's a huge help. Please keep me updated if anything else, uh, _unnatural_ turns up in your examination.”

“ _Will do._ ”

“Thanks again. Bye.” She hung up and clutched the phone to her chest for a moment. Then, out of her mouth, the one word she could think to sum up her situation: “ _Fuck_.”

The first thing Brooke did after pulling herself together was leave a note on the countertop about going out to the park to get fresh air. Then, she donned her supersuit and flew away from the house. She needed help and there was only one person she could think of who might know the answers. 

Landing in the Egertons backyard, she gently slid open the patio door, peering around the kitchen. Drusilla whipped around, hand on her chest. She laughed with relief when she saw it was just Brooke. 

“Oh, Brooke, dear! It's so lovely to see you.” She wiped her hands on her apron, smiling. “I was just in the middle of making a pie—oh, sweetheart, you seem anxious. What's wrong?”

“Is—is Conrad here?” Brooke asked, ripping off her mask and swallowing the lump in her throat. She wasn't going to cry, she _wasn't_. “I need—I-I need—”

The older woman gestured for a hug; Brooke collapsed into her arms and choked out a sob. Tears flowed down her cheeks as Drusilla pet her hair comfortingly. She hiccuped and allowed herself to break down in the woman's motherly embrace. 

“Oh, honey, what happened? What's wrong?” Drusilla gently led her to the sofa, sitting with her arms still embracing Brooke tenderly. It was a maternal warmth that she hadn't felt from her own mother for a long time. She only wept harder. Drusilla continued gently rubbing her back, and whispered soft reassurances. “You're safe, honey, you're safe here... Everything will be okay... You are so loved...”

It took nearly half an hour for Brooke to calm down and collect herself enough to speak. Drusilla smiled kindly at her when she finally removed her head from the woman's shoulder. She grimaced at the puddle of tears, snot, and saliva that remained on Drusilla's blouse. Drusilla didn't seem irritated, though; she rubbed her thumb as her hand rested on Brooke's back. 

“What happened, Brookie?” she asked, tenderly. Brooke sniffled pathetically before answering. 

“I—I—” Brooke hiccuped and coughed as she tried to keep in a newfound sob. “ _So much_ happened!”

Through her chokes and hiccups and sniffs, Brooke told Drusilla everything. How she had saved Harrison from his suicide attempt, how she and Retro hadn't been able to save Janet, how Quaker had been acting so strange recently, how her relationship with Jeremy had accelerated too quickly and subsequently crumbled apart, how Aiden had told her about something called a SQUIP, how she couldn't find anything to verify the existence of such a thing, how she had been forced to reveal her identity at The Keg, how Retro had told him his identity as well, how she was worried about her friend Rich, how she had just gotten a call about Janet's death being cause by internal electrocution... _Everything_. Drusilla listened and nodded, taking in Brooke's story. Finally, she leaned forward and spoke. 

“Oh, sweetheart... That's so much for anyone to go through. It's no wonder you're feeling emotional. You have done absolutely nothing wrong, you understand?” Brooke wasn't convinced, but she nodded with a sniffle. “Sweetie, you're gonna get through this. You are _so_ powerful; even if you're overwhelmed right now, and feel weak, I know that you have immense strength within you.” She kissed Brooke's head firmly, as if trying to transfer all of her love into her brain. “Now, Conrad is at work right now and my kids are out, so why don't you take some time to process? You can just sit here or help me with my pie crust or whatever you'd like. Don't feel guilty for needing time to adjust and take care of yourself, okay, Brookie?”

“Okay.” Brooke laid her head on Drusilla's shoulder again, too weak to support herself. The fatigue that came after weeping was setting in. “Thanks, Dru.”

Drusilla kissed her forehead again. “Anytime, baby, anytime.”

Brooke woke up a few hours later, still on the Egertons' sofa. Drusilla was humming quietly as she buzzed around the kitchen, a freshly baked pie cooling on the counter island. Brooke pushed herself upright, rubbing her eyes. 

“Oh, Brooke, you're awake!” Drusilla beamed at her. “How are you feeling, honey?”

“Better than earlier,” Brooke admitted, leaning over the back of the couch to watch the older woman scuttle around her kitchen. “Sorry for just barging in unannounced and crying all over you.”

“Sweetheart, you _know_ that you're welcome here anytime,” the woman tutted, “and I'm always here as a literal or figurative shoulder to cry on.”

“Thanks, Dru,” Brooke said, appreciatively. She stood and stretched, shaking off her exhaustion. “Ugh, I feel bad, still.”

“Sweetie, you're _seventeen_. It's okay for you to be overwhelmed and take a break.”

“I'm a _superhero_ ,” Brooke argued. “I have _responsibilities_ ; I can't just be seventeen...”

“Pardon my language, but that's _poppycock_.” Brooke snorted at Drusilla's exclamation, then tucked her hair behind her ear, opening herself up to hear what she had to say. “I know it feels like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders—and, you're right, you do have an immeasurable gift, and thus, a far more tremendous burden than anyone else your age—but you must remember that you're not _alone_ in any of this, either. I'm not only talking about your other hero friends—law enforcement too, and Conrad and I. You can't force yourself to carry this load all by yourself, Brooke. You need to keep yourself healthy, both physically _and_ mentally, and that means you need to let yourself _rest_. Do you understand, hun?”

Brooke nodded, sighing. “You're always right, Dru.”

“And don't you forget it!” They laughed and then Drusilla took her hands gently. “I'm really proud of you, honey. You are incredibly strong and remarkably resilient. You taking over from Conrad was exactly what this city needed.” She pulled her into a snug embrace. “You are a beacon of hope for so many and it is infinitely deserved. I'm _so_ proud of you. _So proud_.”

They stood like that for longer than would normally be comfortable, until Brooke's legs ached and her arms were heavy. It didn't feel awkward, though, and Drusilla didn't make any moves to let go. It was the recharge she needed; she was ready to take on the world. 

Gradually, she let go. “Thank you, Drusilla. You—I—” She shook her head, remembering what Sonnet had told her only the other day. _Just say what's on your mind._ “I love you. You're like—like another mom to me.”

“And a damn proud one,” Drusilla said, ruffling Brooke's hair and kissing her head. “Now, I think you might need to go home to your _real_ momma. It's nearly dinnertime—she must be worried sick.”

Brooke shook her head. “She doesn't care. She wouldn't notice anyways. The only person who might would be—” Her eyes widened comically. “Oh, _crap_.”

Sneaking through her bedroom's open window was easy when she could fly. Quick and silent, she slipped into her empty bedroom and cautiously shut her door with a quiet _click_. It had been a terrible lapse in judgement to go out without any civs to change into—thankfully, Gracie was downstairs, watching her favourite cartoon, meaning that Brooke could get changed, sneak back outside, then enter through the front door. Everyone would be none the wiser. 

“Gracie? Are you home?” Brooke called, as she swung open the front door, looking slightly disheveled. 

Gracie popped her head up from where she lay on the couch. “You were gone for a long time.”

“Yeah, sorry, lost track of time. It's nice out.”

“It's October.”

“Still. I like fall weather the best, anyway.” It wasn't a lie; Brooke found the crispness of the autumnal air refreshing and adored the noise of her boots crunching over the fallen leaves. Not to mention the colours and the atmosphere—the only thing to be disliked with school beginning. “Are you watching _Totally Spies_?”

“No, this is _Amazing Spiez_ —it's the spinoff,” Gracie said, eyes fixated on the screen. Brooke frowned; nothing could beat the original. 

“Okay. I'm gonna head upstairs to do homework. Call me if you need anything.”

Gracie shot her a thumbs up and Brooke sprinted up the stairs. She needed to text Michael. Another lapse of judgement during her earlier breakdown: not bringing her phone to the Egertons'. She was met with several missed notifications. 

**_Rich (crush owo) 💞_ **

_Thanks again for hanging out with me this morning. It was really fun, I'm so glad we're friends. I love you so much._

**_Jere Bear 🐻❤️_ **

_hey r we still going 2 the party together tmr?_

**_Mom 👩_**

_Don't stay out too long._

**_player2jheere_ ** _tagged you in a photo_

 **_chloevalentineofficial_ ** _commented on a photo you were tagged in_

 **_rich.go.ranski_ ** _commented on a photo you were tagged in_

 **_dustin-k_ ** _commented on a photo you were tagged in_

 **_mmichaelmmellp1_ ** _wants to send you a message_

She ignored everything except the message from Michael. She couldn't focus on anything else right now. She needed to ask him about his opinion on Aiden's bizarre claim. _He_ was the tech guy, after all; if anyone could verify a supercomputer pill, it would be him. 

**_mmichaelmmellp1_ **

_hey you werent at school today_

_are you okay?_

_yeah_

_well kinda_

_at first i was just thinking about last night_

_but then there was a development_

_of sorts_

_we need to talk_

She watched as her messages were sent, then seen, watched an ellipsis appear, and disappear, and appear again, before finally: 

**_mmichaelmmellp1_ **

_why do i feel like youre breaking up with me? lol_

She chuckled and quickly responded. 

**_mmichaelmmellp1_ **

_its about that lady from ms store_

_and the gunman i saved before that_

_they might be connected_

_idk for sure_

_holy shit_

_really?_

_maybe_

_like i said idk_

_damn_

_okay_

_do you wanna talk in person?_

_thats probably better than text_

_uhh come to my house?_

_sorry that sounded weird i just meant that my house is like a block from yours and my moms know im retro so wed be able to talk openly and get advice and stuff_

_lol it didnt sound weird at all_

_its a good plan_

_okay cool cool_

_uh ill pick you up in 5?_

_i remember where your house is_

_kk_

She haphazardly threw her supersuit, cell phone, and burner phone into her purse, then bolted downstairs to await Michael's arrival. 

“Gracie, I'm going out with my friend, Michael,” she said, leaning over the top of the sofa to look at her sister. “I'll probably be gone over dinner.”

“You were _just_ out,” Gracie said, frowning. “Like, not even fifteen minutes ago.”

“I know, but Michael invited me over, so I'm gonna go.” Brooke glanced out the window, scrutinizing every red car that passed. “When Mom gets home, just let her know, okay?”

Gracie crossed her arms, sitting up suddenly. “You're being so weird!”

“No, I'm not.”

“Yes, you are! I want to know what's going on!”

Brooke sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, internally cursing her mother's stubborn genetics. “Gracie, I'm _not_ —”

A honk from the driveway alerted her of Michael's arrival. _Thank god_. Gracie slumped back, still looking frustrated. Brooke felt a twinge of shame; she used to have such an amazing relationship with her baby sister. They used to talk about school and boys and cartoons and movies and dogs and friends—now, they only had stilted conversations about nothing, filled with frustration and lies. Another honk pulled her from her regrets. 

“Bye, Gray. Be good.” 

She closed the front door and locked it gently, sighing and resting her forehead against it for a moment. Before Michael could honk for a third time, she spun around and yanked open the passenger door. His eyebrows were furrowed. 

“You okay?”

“ _No_ ,” Brooke mumbled, her voice muffled by her hands pressed to her face. 

“Uh...”

“I'll explain later, just _please_ _drive_.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he muttered, putting the car in reverse and backing out of the driveway. He wasn't kidding when he said his house was a block away from hers. Within minutes, they were pulling into another driveway and he was leading her through the front door with a sweeping gesture. “Welcome to _mi casa_ or whatever.”

The first thing Brooke noticed was a woman lounging on a recliner, with the foot she had propped up in a cast. It was the woman from the bank, the one she had thought might be Michael's mother. She supposed her thoughts were confirmed now. The woman glanced up from the magazine she was flipping through and smiled gently. 

“Ah, you must be Brooke? Michael told us you'd be coming over for dinner,” she said, cheerfully. She pushed herself upright and Brooke hurried over to shake her hand, so she wouldn't strain herself by standing. “I'm Maahnoor, but please, call me Noor.”

“It's so nice to meet you,” Brooke said, forcing herself to focus anywhere except her cast. She knew she shouldn't feel guilty, but she did. If she had gotten into the bank just a few minutes earlier... 

“My wife's just in the kitchen, finishing up the pancit, and then we'll eat,” Noor said, settling back into her chair. “It should only be a few more minutes.” Her smile grew proudly. “Ugh, it's so lovely to know Micah has another friend! It's only been him and Jeremy for so long—we love the boy, but still—”

“ _Okay, Mama_! Call us when it's dinnertime!” Michael interjected loudly, pushing Brooke towards the basement stairs. She waved to Maahnoor, who chuckled, shaking her head fondly. He groaned. “Sorry. _Moms_.”

“I liked her,” Brooke giggled. Then, added, “I'm so sorry about the bank, I—”

“Wait, what?” As they reached the bottom of the steps, Michael faced her incredulously. “Brooke, why are _you_ sorry? It's literally not even a little bit your fault.”

“If I had gotten in a bit sooner—”

“Stop that.” Michael shoved her shoulder. “It wasn't just _you_ out there, and even if it was, it wasn't your fault. The only people responsible for her broken ankle are the robbers, all right?”

Brooke nodded—the guilt in her stomach eased only slightly—and took in the room she found herself in. It was Michael's bedroom, if the queen-sized bed was any indication, but there was also a widescreen TV and gaming system, a thick rug, two large bean bag chairs, and comfortably worn loveseat. It felt like the lovechild of a teenager's bedroom and a family room; Brooke couldn't even imagine having a bedroom this big. 

“Sorry it's such a mess,” Michael said, kicking a PlayStation controller out of the way, plopping down on one of the bean bags. 

“This is so cool,” Brooke said, grin spreading across her face. “ _You're_ so cool, Michael.”

“I know.” Brooke giggled at his repartee, tentatively sitting on the bean bag next to his. “But I never thought _you'd_ think so.”

“I know I hang out with Chloe all the time, and I _am_ similar to her in some ways, I'm not, like, the Karen Smith to her Regina George, y'know? I mean,” her face flushed, “I _kinda_ am, since I follow her like a sad puppy dog, but I'm still my own person, not some carbon copy crony.”

“She seems kinda mean to you,” Michael said, quietly. 

“She can be,” Brooke responded, tone echoing his. “But she used to be like—like my sister, y'know? And she still is, sometimes. She's just—she's insecure. She wanted people to like her so she changed and now she's scared to be more soft again because she worries no one will like her anymore.” Michael blinked. “She's an honest and emotional drunk.”

“Ah. I mean, that's like Jeremy, basically—he just wanted to be liked and accepted _so_ badly that he took—uh, I mean, he had some, ah, _outside help_.” Michael's expression fell. “Gotta love when best friends change for the worst.”

“Yeah...”

Before either of them could speak again, Noor shouted, “ _DINNER_!” and the teenagers left thoughts of their mean best friends behind. 

“We should probably talk about why you're actually here,” Michael said, once they were back in the basement. 

Brooke, whose brain was still fixed on the food they had for dinner and Michael's other mother, Mahalina, and how much she envied him for having two moms who seemed to care so much while she only had one who couldn't care less, turned to him with a, “Hm?”

“You know!” Michael lowered his voice and glanced around, as though they were in a crowd of people and not alone in his bedroom. “The whole ‘ _Microsoft Lady and Gun Guy being connected_ ’ thing?”

Brooke sighed—they _had_ to discuss her findings, but then it would be _real_ and they would have to abandon this moment of normalcy in her life. _Oh well._ “It's gonna sound crazy, trust me.”

“Look, I've dealt with a ton of crazy recently. Hit me.”

 _Where does she even begin?_ “Okay, so you remember how Janet—or, _Microsoft lady_ , as you so eloquently put it—was just screaming about something being in her head?” Michael nodded. “Well, Harrison— _gun guy_ —was saying the same thing, that someone was in his head and he needed to get it out. I visited Harrison in the mental hospital the other day and met his younger brother, Aiden. Aiden confided in me about why his brother tried to kill himself, which I thought was crazy at first, but now... I'm starting to believe it. Apparently, Harrison took this pill called—”

“A SQUIP?”

Brooke stared at Michael in disbelief. “So it's really real? How do you—?”

“Because,” Michael's voice shook and his fists were clenched tightly by his sides, “Jeremy took one too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S HAPPENING IT'S HAPPENING GUYS WE'RE IN IT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> **THINGS TO NOTE:**
> 
> As you can see, Rich is doing great 😌✨
> 
> Realistically, I imagine the time skip between Act 1 and Act 2 of the musical is much longer than literally two days, but for this fic it's not a long time at all, just for the purposes of this storyline lol but we're gonna get to the meat of the story much quicker~!!
> 
> Poor Gracie just wants to know what's happening in Brooke's life!! Let her in Brooke!!!
> 
> Michael's moms are the same mom ocs I use in Remnants of a Burnt Child so anyways we love Mahalina and Maahnoor Mell!!!!!!!! 
> 
> And I think that's it for now!!! We're getting into it now kids!!! Comments bookmarks and kudos mean the world to me, thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!!! ~Jayce


	5. Enlightening Encounters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys!!! I did it!!! Here are the [supersuit drawings!!](https://www.instagram.com/p/CIob7FDlzyt/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link) So, if you've ever been confused about how I described/didn't describe the kids' supersuits, you'll now have a visual ref 😌✨ anyways!!! Chapter!!! 5!!! Incoming!!!

“ _Oh my god_.” Brooke didn't know what else to say. “Oh my _god_.”

“He just wanted to feel like less of a loser,” Michael said, breath quickening as he spoke. “He just wanted to fit in more, he wanted more friends, he wanted to talk to people without second-guessing literally everything! Oh my god, he's gonna go _crazy_ —”

“Hold on, we can stop it,” Brooke said, though her tone was more like a question than a statement. “He'll be fine! We just need to—to think this through.” Michael shook his head rapidly and Brooke could tell he was spiralling. She grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him to look her in the eyes. Then, firmly, she restated, “We can stop this. Jeremy will be _fine_.”

“How?” He sounded desperate; Brooke wished she knew what to do. 

“I—I don't know yet,” she admitted, knowing that lying to him would get them nowhere. “ _But_ , we'll figure it out. Together, okay?”

Michael nodded. She sighed with relief—it was a step. Thinking back to the problem at hand, she found herself not worrying too much about Jeremy. He acted completely sane and normal—aside from ditching Michael and maybe-probably using Brooke as a stepping stone to popularity—so his SQUIP probably wasn't at the point where it was going to make him go crazy. 

“I mean, think about it,” she said, as she relayed her thought pattern to Michael, “Harrison took a few years before his drove him to, er, _drastic measures_ , and Janet probably had hers for a while, too. Jeremy is safe right now. He's an _asshole_ , but he's safe.”

“Yeah... I hope so,” Michael murmured. 

“What if we just _talk_ to him about it?” Brooke asked. 

“Huh?”

“He doesn't know the dangers of this thing—maybe if we just explained everything, we could knock some sense into him.” She rubbed her hands on her sweatpants, keeping herself in the present. “We could talk to him tomorrow. At the party. Or—or over text I guess, but it feels too serious for that, I don't know.”

“Party?”

“Oh, Jake's Halloween party—he does it every year. Jeremy and I planned to go together.” Her expression soured. “I have a costume and everything—I was _so_ excited—but now I don't even want to _face_ that dickwad.” 

“He's not—I mean, he _can_ be a dick, but not like this. This is all the SQUIP. It _has_ to be,” Michael insisted, pulling at his sleeves. 

“Then we need to save him,” she replied, simply. It wasn't a question; it was their destiny. “If he's being controlled by this evil computer chip, we need to turn it off, somehow.” She paused, a thought arising. “Do you think you could manipulate it? Like, with your technokinesis?”

He shook his head. “That would be _way_ too dangerous. I don't know how it's connected to his brain. If it can do crazy shit like you're saying, then... I just don't know what could happen if I took control of it. Besides, it's not easy to manipulate tech that I can't see.” He shuddered, seeming to be imagining the potential consequences. “Too many things could go wrong if I tried that.”

“Okay, yeah, let's not risk that,” she agreed, solemnly. He looked so downcast, so hopeless, that she couldn't let him believe for a moment that they wouldn't save Jeremy. “Tomorrow. We'll confront him at the party. He'll come to his senses, stop listening to the murder computer, and be fine.” She pulled out her phone, cursing quietly. “Shit, it's kinda late and my mom's asking where I am...” She looked back to Michael. “I know this is the _worst_ timing ever, but—”

“I can drop you home,” he said, tugging his hoodie back on. “It's cold and dark, I don't want you walking home alone.”

“As if I couldn't take care of myself,” Brooke teased, though she bumped his shoulder gratefully. “Thanks, Michael.”

He shrugged. “No problem. You'd better keep me in the loop about all this shit, though. If _anything_ happens, I want to be the first to know.”

“You got it. I'll text you the details about the party.”

They ascended the stairs, tension filling the air around them. Even though she was insisting everything would be fine, they both felt nerves building within them. But they were seventeen—they didn't know what else to do—so they just pulled on their shoes and got into Michael's car. 

“Your moms are nice,” Brooke said, as they pulled out of the driveway. 

“Thanks. I was kinda worried you'd be...” He gestured vaguely. “Y'know.”

“Homophobic?”

“Yeah. I mean, as Sunshine you never seemed like the type, but, as Brooke... Just, your friends are—I mean—just...” He trailed off as he flipped the turn signal. “They're always making, uh, _offhanded_ comments. Rich especially.”

She frowned. “I'm sorry they do that. I didn't—” He didn't need her excuses, she realized. “I'll stop them, in the future. I'm sorry I haven't before.”

Michael shrugged. “It's okay.“

“It's _not_ , really,” she insisted, as they pulled into her driveway and he put the car in park. “Even though I didn't know you or your moms before, I shouldn't've sat idly by. It's not okay, whether or not I know gay people personally.”

“You probably know more people in the LGBT community than you think,” Michael said. Brooke thought of Chloe, of her struggle with her sexuality, and nodded in agreement. He smiled, giving her a fist bump. “Anyway, thanks, Brooke.”

“Thank _you_ , Michael,” she shot back, grinning as she slid out of the car. “I'll text you later and see you tomorrow.”

He waved and she mirrored his gesture, before turning around to head inside. She stopped in her tracks when she saw her mom in the doorway, arms crossed and glaring. 

“And where have _you_ been?”

“My friend Michael's house,” Brooke replied, defensively. “I told Gracie to tell you.”

“She did. She also said you were out on a ‘walk’ for about two hours before that, maybe longer.”

“Yeah, so? You're always nagging at me to get fresh air,” Brooke retorted. She didn't understand why her mom was angry; usually, she didn't give a shit about where Brooke was all day. It made the ‘ _sneaking out to be a superhero_ ’ thing pretty easy. “Why do you _care_ , anyway? I'm home now.”

“ _Why do I_ —?” Mom threw her arms up in exasperation. “I'm your _mother_ , Brooke! I need to know where you are!” Brooke couldn't hold back a bark of bitter laughter and her mother shot her a glare. “What's so funny, young lady?”

“You've never been concerned about where I've been before now,” Brooke spat, acid coating her words. “I'm _always_ out with friends and you never say anything! It's not like you're ever home anyways!” 

Mom took a step back as if her daughter's words had physically lashed out at her. Brooke felt vexation building within her. Her mother was always at work or out with some new boytoy—she had never bothered getting to know her first-born child, barely remembering any of Brooke's interests or friends' names or special events. It shouldn't be surprising that she had given up telling her mom anything important a long time ago. 

“Brooke Genevra Lohst,” her mom seethed, hissing out the words through her teeth, “how _dare_ you insinuate that!”

“ _Insinuate_?” Brooke stared at her incredulously, gripping the strap of her purse stiffly. “I'm not _insinuating_ , I'm calling you out!” She let out a huffy laugh. “You're barely home, you don't know _anything_ about me or Gracie, you only care about dating stupid guys! When I went out with Jeremy, you didn't even care that you didn't know who he was, you just told me to be home by ten and not get pregnant! When Dustin cheated on me, you told me that _I_ should've been a better girlfriend!” She tried to laugh again, but it came out as a wretched sob. “You've always been a lousy mom; why are you pretending to be a good one _now_?”

She knew it was a mistake as soon as the words tumbled out of her mouth, yet she was so incensed that she didn't care. How could her mom try to be involved in her life after years and years of impassiveness? She loved her and Gracie, but she didn't make enough of an effort to get to know them—at least, not that Brooke could see. If she would just try a little bit harder to be a _mom_ instead of just another single-as-a-pringle, ready-to-mingle woman in New Jersey, maybe Brooke wouldn't feel so alone. 

“That—that is _not_ true!” Mom yelled. “I—you're angry because I go _easy_ on you? Because I'm a _cool mom_?”

“Go easy on me? _Cool_? You're deluded!” Brooke's fists were shaking, clenched by her sides. “You barely have any rules for me to break and even if you did, you wouldn't even care enough to punish me! I go to parties with drugs and alcohol and sex and you don't ever give a shit! That's not _cool_ , it's irresponsible parenting!”

“I—”

“Sometimes, I think you care about Gracie more than me,” Brooke said, crossing her arms and sniffing, trying to prevent further tears. “But, you don't make an effort for her, either.” 

Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, the chill air only filled by the sounds of Brooke's occasional sniffles and hiccups, and the quiet noises of the suburban outdoors. Brooke hugged her sides, shivering slightly, wishing she had brought a coat to Michael's. She hadn't realized she would be stuck standing on her doorstep in the cold evening breeze, arguing with her mother about her shitty parenting. 

The silence was broken by a confused, “Mom? Brooke? Why are you standing outside?”

Gracie stood hesitantly in the doorway, peering around the silhouette of her mother. Parker bounded over to stand by her legs, tail wagging. Brooke didn't know what to tell her. Why was all this shit happening _now_? Didn't the higher powers realize she was already dealing with something way more important and life-threatening? 

“I was just informing your sister about the business trip I have to go on this weekend,” Mom said stoically, not meeting Brooke's eyes. “The one I told you about earlier, Grace.”

“Oh... Okay.” Gracie's befuddlement didn't disperse. “Um, well, it's kinda cold, so...”

“We're coming inside now.” Their mom coolly pushed past Gracie into the foyer. “I still need to pack.”

Gracie lingered for a moment, as though she wanted to say something more. Eventually, she turned to return to the sofa, beckoning for Parker to join her. Brooke watched this all happen, dumbfounded. Her mother definitely hadn't been talking to her about any business trips. If she had told Gracie earlier, it must've been a real plan, not a spur of the moment lie; Brooke despised that. She was half convinced that these ‘ _business trips_ ’ she took every so often were really just motel rooms and cheap champagne with whatever new boytoy she found. She had no proof, but she wouldn't put it past her mom. 

With a final sniff and wipe of her face, she entered the house, dreading the day to come. 

**_mmichaelmmellp1_ **

_https://maps.app.goo.gl.com/bmc145..._

_heres jakes address_

_thx_

_the party starts @ 7_

_could u drive me? 😅_

_i fought w/ my mom so i dont think shell be 2 happy w/ me using her car_

_yea np_

_thank u 💛_

_ur the best_

_i know 😌✨_

Brooke didn't really want to spend the day in her house, not after the night prior, so she texted all of her friends in hopes of hanging out in the morning. The only two people she didn't text were Michael, who told her he was going out to visit Aiden and Harrison, hoping to learn more about SQUIPs, and Jeremy, who she frankly didn't want to see until she needed to. Most of the responses came within minutes. 

**_Chloe Vday 💋_ **

_im busy_

**_Jake Dill Pickle 🥒_ **

_im gonna b setting up all day, srry_

**_Stan Eggs 🍳_ **

_doin hw_

**_Kat (cousinnn) 😽_ **

_I've already got plans today! Sorry Brookie Cookie! 😭_

**_Lucy Eggs 🍳_ **

_cant meet in the mornng but afternoon is good 😘_

Brooke breathed a sigh of relief at Lucy's reply. 

**_Lucy Eggs 🍳_ **

_thank u!!!!!_

_i need to get out of the house_

_course babes 🤗_

_oh hey maybe u could do my makeup 4 the party tonight too!!?_

_😍😍😍_

_yes pls!! 💍_

_😂_

The only snag to Brooke's ‘ _get out of the house_ ’ plan was Gracie. Mom had left in the early hours of the morning and, despite being rather independent, Gracie was still only eleven. Brooke didn't want to just leave her. 

“What are your plans for tonight, Gracie Gray?” Brooke asked, as she flipped pancakes on the griddle. (Of _course_ , their mother hadn't made any food for her daughters, why would she bother with that?) “Trick-or-treating?”

Gracie nodded through a mouthful of food. “Yeah, me and Sophie and Deanna and Fatimah and D'Alice are going out at 6!”

“Fun! Anything else?”

“We're having a sleepover after,” Gracie said. Then, she side-eyed Brooke suspiciously. “Why're you so interested? Usually you don't care.”

Brooke felt a pang of guilt—she had been doing the exact thing to Gracie that she had been ragging on her mother for. She'd convinced herself that it was because she was busy with herowork, but that wasn't an excuse. She stacked the completed pancakes onto a plate and poured some more batter onto the griddle. 

“I know. I'm sorry. I've just been busy and stressed with school and friends and drama...” She shook her head. “But that isn't an excuse. I'm sorry that I haven't been as good of a sister as I should be. As I _want_ to be.”

Gracie blinked in surprise. “Oh. Wow. Uh, well... I accept your apology, I guess. Um, yeah.” She squinted. “You have that party thing, right? It happens every year.”

Brooke nodded, humming thoughtfully. “Yep. It starts at 7 and I have _no_ clue how long I'll be out. In a way, it's perfect that you'll be at a sleepover tonight.”

Gracie nodded now, taking another bite of her syrup-laden breakfast. “Yeah... At least I won't be alone in the house like last year.” Before Brooke could say anything, she brightened and asked, “What's your costume this year?”

“A sexy dog,” Brooke said, flustered and giggling awkwardly. “I figured, you always see sexy cats, but no one ever goes as a sexy _dog_ , y'know?” Thankfully, instead of being mortified, Gracie laughed. Brooke grinned. “What about you, Gray? Hogwarts students again?”

“Nah, we're doing a different group costume this year. Powerpuff Girls!” Gracie beamed proudly. “I'm Bubbles, D'Alice is Buttercup, Fatimah is Blossom, Sophie is Miss Bellum, and Deanna is Him!”

“That sounds so fun!” Brooke finished up the pancakes, moving the plate to the table and sitting down. “I should totally try to arrange a group costume with my friends one day.”

“Yeah! It's so fun,” Gracie agreed, reaching for another pancake. She hesitated, then added, “Can we hang out today? Like we used to?”

Brooke paused as she spread Nutella over her pancakes. “Well... I was going to go over to my friend, Lucy's, this afternoon...” Gracie's face fell, then Brooke quickly continued, “But, you know what? Maybe you could join us! She's really nice, I bet she won't mind. Hold on, let me ask her, okay?”

**_Lucy Eggs 🍳_ **

_hey_

_can i bring my lil sis?_

_yeah ofc!_

_she sounds cute i wanna meet her!!! 👀_

_thanks baeee 🤩_

_uh could u pick us up then?_

_cant fly if im bringkng gracie lol_

_lol ofc_

_pick u up around noon?_

_ill treat u 2 mcds otw 😘_

_ur the best 😍_

“Okay, we have plans for the afternoon now,” Brooke said, grinning widely. Gracie lit up excitedly and Brooke felt like she had finally done something right. “You should bring along your costume; Lucy's an awesome make-up artist! She's doing my make-up too, it'll be fun.”

“Okay! But what are we going to do before then?” Gracie asked, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. 

“How about we play a game? Like, how we used to play Dutch Blitz with Kat and Uncle Darius,” Brooke suggested, nudging her sister cheerfully. 

“Ooh!” Gracie exclaimed, bouncing in her seat earnestly. She sighed happily. “God, Brooke, I've missed you so much!”

“Well, I'm here now,” Brooke said, easily, “and I'm not leaving anytime soon.”

True to her word, Lucy brought them to McDonald's for lunch before heading back to the Egerton house. Gracie was enamoured with Lucy immediately, whispering to Brooke how pretty she was—Brooke could practically see the stars in her eyes. Lucy was naturally personable, so there was never a dull moment in conversation. 

“And her name is really spelt D- _apostrophe_ -A-L-I-C-E?” Lucy asked incredulously, as Gracie raved about her friend group. 

“Yeah! Isn't it cool?” Gracie grinned, dipping a chicken nugget in hot mustard. “Her parents are really nice, too. They said they just liked the name Dallas, but not the spelling, so they made a new spelling.”

“Very cool,” Lucy agreed. She paused to take a bite from her Big Mac, then added, “Soooo... Do you have any crushes, Gracie?”

Gracie's cheeks went red and she ducked away, bashfully. Brooke gasped, excitedly. “ _Gracie_! Who is he?”

“Um... I don't know.”

“C'mon, you can tell us—we won't say anything!” Gracie glanced between them; Brooke leaned closer and added, “If you don't want to say it in front of Lucy, that's fine—”

“It's not a boy,” Gracie whispered, looking very small as she hunched her shoulders and stared intensely at her chicken nuggets. “I have a crush on a girl, I think.”

“Oh. Well, that's okay,” Brooke said, instantly. She glanced over to Lucy. “Right, Lu?”

“Yeah, of course,” Lucy agreed. “Nothing to be ashamed of, Gracie. In fact,” she leaned forward conspiratorially, “I actually have a girlfriend.”

“Really?” Gracie asked, glancing up hopefully. _Really?_ Brooke thought, not having known this. 

Lucy nodded, leaning back. “Her name's Trinh. We met in high school and now we go to the same college.”

“Well... I think I like my friend Fatimah, like, more than a friend? But I don't know. I'm scared that I'm wrong,” Gracie murmured. Brooke brushed her hair away from her face gently, smiling. 

“Gracie, that's okay if you don't know. My friend, Chl—um, I mean, another friend of mine—she's still figuring stuff out, too.” She wrapped her arms around her baby sister tenderly. “Whether you like girls, or boys, or both, or neither, I love you and support you.”

“Thanks, Brooke.” She leaned into her embrace, wiping her eyes. “I was scared you'd be like Mom.”

“Wait, is Mom—?”

“That's why Uncle Darius and Kat don't come to Thanksgiving anymore,” Gracie said. “Kat told me that her dad came out as gay and Grandma and Grandpa and Mom all banned him from coming to family things.”

“I... didn't know that,” Brooke said, in surprise. Her eyebrows furrowed. “That's not right. _They're_ not right. Being—being gay isn't a bad thing!” 

Gracie nodded, sadly. “I don't think so either...”

“Wait, why didn't Kat tell _me_ that?” Brooke asked. 

“She said she was scared because she's met your friends and they made gay jokes and stuff, so she thought you might... y'know. Agree with Mom.”

“I am the worst.” Brooke covered her face with her hands. “I am the _worst_! I should never have tolerated that shit— _sorry, Gracie_ —for so long!” She sighed. “I need to send so many people a, like, fifty-page long apology.”

“I think people can forgive you,” Lucy piped up. “You're young and some people don't learn this stuff until they're well into their adult years. You're a good person, Brooke. Don't worry.”

With new revelations seeming to be concluded, the girls finished their lunch and headed back out to the car. As Gracie was buckling in, Lucy pulled Brooke aside for a moment. 

“Hey, um, could you not tell my parents or Stan about this? Like, the fact I have a girlfriend.” Brooke nodded—it wasn't her secret to tell obviously—but she couldn't say she wasn't confused. The Egertons all seemed so kind and accepting. Lucy, seeing her expression, filled in the blanks. “I just—I haven't come out as bi yet, and I don't know how they'll react, especially since Mom and Dad are, like, old and white, y'know?”

“Of course, Lu. Uh, I'm sorry if I ever gave you the impression you couldn't tell me.”

Lucy shook her head. “Nah. In fact, I always kinda thought I'd tell you first. I didn't know that your mom or friends were homophobic, though.”

“I didn't either,” Brooke muttered. Lucy clapped her on the shoulder. 

“Hey, I'm sure it'll be—”

“Are you guys coming?” Gracie yelled from the backseat. 

“Yeah! Sorry, Gray,” Brooke replied, climbing into the passenger seat. They could talk more about her need for better friends later. 

“How'd you two meet, anyways?” Gracie asked, as Lucy applied some eyeshadow for her Bubbles-inspired make-up look. “You're in college, but Brooke is only in high school.”

Lucy never paused in her application, hands still gently holding Gracie's face still, but she and Brooke shared uneasy looks. They certainly couldn't tell her that they'd met because Brooke had been trained by Lucy's dad to be a superhero. 

“We met through my dad, actually,” Lucy said, keeping her voice light. Brooke had no clue where she was going with this—she was glad that Gracie's eyes had to be closed for the eyeshadow, so she couldn't see how worried her sister looked. “He taught at Brooke's school for a bit, and she was always his favourite student. I came to the class one day, just to visit him, and Brooke and I kinda just hit it off immediately.”

“Yeah, it was really weird how things happened, but I'm glad it did,” Brooke added. Lucy's story didn't _fully_ make sense, but it was similar enough to the true story that they didn't _sound_ like they were lying. “Life is weird, y'know.”

Gracie nodded in agreement, blinking as Lucy finished her work. “Weird, but cool, sometimes.”

Brooke hummed. “Definitely.” She passed her sister a mirror. “Take a look, Gray!”

“OMG!” Gracie exclaimed, tilting her head to examine every inch of her face. “Thank you, Lucy! I love it!”

“You're very welcome, Gracie,” Lucy grinned. “Now, Brookie, it's your turn!”

Brooke swapped places with Gracie, scrolling through her phone while Lucy organized the make-up she would need for Brooke's look. A new text message made her frown. 

**_Jenna Rolan 🗣️📱_ **

_rumour has it that dustin is coming 2 the party 2nite 👀_

She forgot that she had Jenna's number, honestly. They definitely weren't close at all—she wasn't sure they would even be classified as friends—although that girl knew _all_ the juicy gossip, so she definitely liked being on good terms with her. Being the first to hear news about her heroine alter ego was ofttimes advantageous. 

**_Jenna Rolan 🗣️📱_ **

_that douchebag 😠_

_did jake invite him?_

_idk but i can find out 😏_

_🙌_

Brooke wondered what Jenna did besides hiding secrets within the confines of her hair à la Gretchen Wieners. 

“Tilt your head,” Lucy commanded, snapping Brooke back to the present. Right, Jenna was not the forefront of her life right now. “Why is your costume purple? When you said ‘sexy dog,’ I thought, like, a _dog_ , y'know?”

Brooke laughed. “Shut up! I didn't make this shit; take it up with, uhhh, fucking Spirit Halloween or whatever.”

“You bought this at _Spirit Halloween_?”

“Fuck off! It's literally their whole thing—their _only_ thing! What else am I gonna buy there?”

“Gracie _made_ her costume,” Lucy said, gesturing to the youngest girl, who was playing a game on Lucy's phone. “You should've made yours, too.”

“Ha, I'm not a creative type,” Brooke said. “I should've commissioned your mom to make me a costume. We both know from experience that she'd do a better job than me.”

Drusilla had been the one to make the Sunshine supersuit for Brooke. Originally, Brooke had just worn a generic superhero costume (from Value Village, not Spirit Halloween, thank you very much) and it had done a very poor job of concealing her identity. Drusilla, who had been a seamstress before she retired to be a stay-at-home mom and had created her husband's Crimson Sun supersuit as well, took it upon herself to give Brooke's alter ego a much needed upgrade. Now, Sunshine's look was iconic and Brooke felt a surge of joy every time she donned the spandex. 

“You're plenty creative,” Lucy argued. “Creativity isn't just classic arts and crafts.”

“I guess,” Brooke said, closing her eyes as Lucy's hands travelled higher up her cheekbones. 

“I'm not gonna argue with you, Brooke. You're a creative human being and that's that!” Brooke laughed. “Now, hold still! If you want to be home before your party, I can't have my canvas wiggling all over.”

The party. Everytime Brooke was reminded of it, she thought about Jeremy and Michael and SQUIPs and Janet's dead eyes and Harrison's wretched sobs and she wanted to curl in bed and never come out. But, she couldn't do that. If she did, people might get hurt. People might—

“Stop furrowing your brow, bitch! Let me work!”

“Why're you calling Brooke a female dog?” Gracie pouted, not yet into the stage of life where swearing at your friends was a term of endearment as opposed to an insult. 

“I mean,” Brooke could imagine Lucy gesturing to her, clad in a fluffy purple outfit, resembling a sexualized poodle, “am I wrong?”

Gracie laughed and Brooke tried her best not to shake. Lucy was curling her eyelashes now; she forced her mind onto the subject of dogs instead of Halloween parties. Parker was back home, probably finished her food and water by now. Before she and Michael ventured off to what destiny had in store for them, she would need to refill everything. Maybe he could meet Parker—did Michael even like dogs? Well, who _didn't_ like dogs...

“Head left, babe.”

Brooke tilted her face. Chloe wasn't a huge dog person. She didn't _hate_ Parker, but she didn't like the dog smell or the idea of needing to pick up shit and stuff. Brooke didn't blame her. She would let Parker cuddle by her feet or her side when she'd come over though, lazily stroking her fingers through the golden retriever's fur as she scrolled through her phone or watched some trashy romcom. It had been so long since the two of them had hung out; Brooke missed her. 

“Eyeshadow time,” Lucy said, and Brooke could hear her shuffling through brushes. 

Chloe had always been nice to Gracie, as well. If someone only saw Chloe at school, they'd never believe it, but Chloe had a weakness for kids. She would let down her guard a bit, be a bit more goofy than anyone would think she was capable of, and reveal the softness deep inside her. Maybe that was only with Gracie, since she'd known her ever since she'd known Brooke—Brooke couldn't help but think that it was actually Chloe letting her _real_ self escape, the part of her that didn't want to be a bitch. Was Brooke a bitch too? She didn't know anymore.

“Done!” Lucy pulled away, tucking her make-up back into its drawer. “One of my finest works, if I do say so myself.”

Brooke opened her eyes and grabbed up the mirror. Damn, Lucy had really outdone herself. You could tell she was a dog, but not, like, _oh my god she's a hyper-realistic dog that's something from my nightmares_ , just _oh, a sexy dog!_ She grinned. 

“Thanks, Lu! This is amazing!”

“Don't you forget it.” Lucy tossed Brooke her wig and dog ears. “I need to get you girls home soon, but I think we have time to play a couple rounds of Just Dance with Stan, if you want?”

Gracie perked up at those words. Brooke giggled and spun around, feeling happy to be someone other than herself or Sunshine for a while. For now, she was just a teenager. 

Lucy had dropped them off with just enough time to throw a frozen pizza in the oven and have a quick dinner before Gracie's friends came over to go trick-or-treating. Brooke waved them off, smiling as Gracie shyly walked beside Fatimah, cheeks rosy as she watched the girl readjust her hijab carefully. Brooke shook her head; how had she not noticed her sister's crush before?

Her phone vibrated and she glanced down. 

**_mmichaelmmellp1_ **

_im omw now_

_dont judge my costume_

_lol as long as you dont judge mine 🐩_

_seriously_

_its meant to b a disguise so its not,,, cool_

_dont text n drive bitch 😤_

_im not_

_im in my driveway_

_"im omw now" 🤔🧐🤥_

_STFU ASFDFHJKLF_

_C U IN 5 MINS ASSHOLE_

Brooke laughed, tucking her phone into her pocket. She took a deep breath in; she needed to be ready for this. Jeremy was _probably_ fine, but there was a chance he wouldn't be for long. She might be angry at him—at his SQUIP—but she was still going to do everything in her power to save him. 

Wringing her hands nervously, she paced the foyer. It was up to her and Michael— _Retro and Sunshine_ —to save Jeremy. Thinking of her sister, who had only hours earlier revealed her struggle with her sexuality and her fear of coming out. It seemed like anyone who took a SQUIP just wanted their life to be just a bit easy—a bit _better_ —what if her baby sister had been presented with the opportunity to take one? Would she? Brooke shuddered at the mere thought; they needed to stop these pills from being spread. 

Starting with Jeremy, since they had no other real leads who weren't dead or otherwise incapacitated—which was _terrifying_ , she hated remembering that Harrison had literally lost his mind and Janet had _died_ —and from there, they would take down the manufacturer. They _had_ to. No matter how long it took, Brooke was going to prevent further death from the hand of these supercomputer pills. 

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!_

Brooke jumped at the noise, but a glance out the window told her that Michael had arrived. She whipped open the door and raised an eyebrow at his outfit. 

“Okay, I know I said I wouldn't judge you, but...” He wore a shirt that had the word _CREEPS_ across the front, shorts, and socks patterned with weed leaves. “What _is_ this?”

“I'm not in my costume yet—it would've impeded my driving,” Michael said, rolling his eyes. “Pretty sure that _we_ , of all people, shouldn't be disregarding the law.”

“Fair enough,” Brooke giggled, following him into the car. “So, are you ready?”

“I think so,” he mumbled, backing out of the driveway. “Sorry, hold up—” He pulled up Google Maps, swearing under his breath as he tried to type in Jake's address. “Anyways, I don't know what to expect, but I think I'm ready. Aiden certainly provided some interesting insight today.”

“Oh! Yes, what did he say?” Brooke asked, perking up. 

“We mainly talked about how Harrison's mannerisms changed after taking the SQUIP, and it sounded _really_ similar to Jeremy,” Michael said. “He stopped hanging out with certain people, his style changed, he started acing his classes, and, gradually, started acting more and more unstable, mentally.”

“Hm. So, Jeremy's not in great shape, right now,” Brooke murmured. “I mean, he stopped hanging out with you, his style _definitely_ changed, based on the instagram stalking I did when he first, uh, _asked me out_ , and he's been, like, _insane_ at play rehearsal, getting every line _perfect_.” She shook her head. “Harrison seemed to have his for a few years before it reached _this_ point, but I'm not eager to test the limits.”

“Me either,” Michael agreed, squinting at street names as they passed. “Which one was Jake's?”

“Tracz Avenue,” Brooke replied, glancing out the window. Quietly, she asked, “Do you think this will change anything?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, even if we save Jeremy—whatever saving him even _means_ —what happens next? Do we just go on our merry way, knowing there are probably more of those _things_ out there?”

Michael was silent for a minute. Finally, as he turned onto Jake's street and managed to find a parking spot a few houses away, he said, “I don't know, Brooke. I wish I did... Let's just—let's start with this. Tonight. Then we can make a game plan.”

“Okay.” She nodded and stepped out of the car. He followed suit, pulling a gaggle of pop cans out of the backseat as he did so. They stood in front of the Dillinger house, staring at the flashing lights in the windows and the blaring bass that shook the ground beneath their feet. “Well... Welcome to Jake Dillinger's Halloween party.”

Michael gulped, but looked at Brooke resolutely. “Let's do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **gimmE NICOTINE VASELINE AMPHETAMINE AND GASOLINE CAUSE TONIGHT IT'S HALLOWEEEEEN**
> 
> I am literally so excited asdhgdhfkkdhjh!!!!!!
> 
> This chapter was basically a filler in lead up to The Halloween Party™ !!!!!! So it's basically just Brooke talking with people and learning things and being worried haha
> 
> Mom Lohst (idk if her name will ever be mentioned in-fic, but her first name is Eugenia 🤷) is not the Greatest mom ever. Yeah. 
> 
> Brooke's cousin, Kat, is named after Katrina Lohst, who was, like, the original Brooke kinda from the novel?? Idk, I don't really love the novel tbh, but anyways I stole her name (and headcanon her face claim as Morgan Siobhan Green)(fun fact: Lucy and Stanley are face claimed as Talia Suskauer and Cameron Bond, respectively 😌✨)(and mayhaps more swings will have face claims oooh who knowsssss 👀)
> 
> I stole the name of Gracie's friend, D'Alice, from my high school teacher, D'Alice (idk her last name lol I graduated from this lil alternative school where all the staff and students were on a first name basis, except for two, who were both named Tim, so we refered to them by their last names, Dodds and Dang, but anywayS ALL THAT TO SAY D'ALICE IS A REAL LIFE SPELLING OF DALLAS THAT AT LEAST ONE PERSON HAS AND I THINK IT'S SO COOL AND PRETTY!!!!!!)
> 
> Oh yeah, made Jake's street Tracz Ave bc we love lil references to The Joes™ 😌✨
> 
> Idk what else to say, like I said, this chapter was kinda a filler—the NEXT chapter is where the excitement REALLY begins!!!!!! I'M SO EXCITED ASDHGDHFKKDHJH!!!!!! also in case you missed it in the top notes, here are the [supersuit designs I created!!!](https://www.instagram.com/p/CIob7FDlzyt/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link) Thank you for reading (and maybe checking out my art account 😌✨) ~Jayce


	6. Fervent Blaze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S HEERE!!!!!!!! 😍🎉🙌 
> 
> Guys, this chapter is INTENSE, and feels very chaotic, but the next chapter will be a lot less so, so don't worry.

She had lost Michael within minutes of entering. He had run up to the bathroom to change into his costume and never returned. She sent him about a thousand messages, worried he had been murdered in Jake Dillinger's bathroom—he replied with “😖😩” emojis and a typo-riddled string of apologies about being anxious. She'd immediately reassured him that it was okay, that he didn't need to be here, but he said he _did_ , he needed to be here for Jeremy. Their new plan had Brooke leading Jeremy to the upstairs bathroom, wherein she and Michael would both confront him with their knowledge on the true nature of SQUIPs. It wasn't exactly _solid_ , but they were both too worked up to think of anything else. 

After an hour, with the party in full swing, Brooke was beginning to hate Jeremy even more than she already did. She was almost positive this was his supercomputer-brain-pill-fucker telling him to be _fashionably late_ , but he had long since crossed the fashionable line. Where _was_ that bastard?

“Brooke!” 

The absolute _last_ person she wanted to see approached her. She scowled. 

“What do _you_ want, Dustin?” she snapped, crossing her arms defiantly. 

“Don't act like that, Brookie! Obviously, Jerry—”

“ _Jeremy_ ,” she corrected, harshly. 

“ _Jeremy_ stood you up; I'm just trying to keep a pretty girl company!”

“Funny, you didn't think I was so pretty when we were together,” Brooke retorted, glowering at him. “If I recall, you thought Jessica Jorgensen was much prettier. Why don't you go harass _her_ instead?”

“She's— _you're_ —That's not relevant—” Brooke turned away, but he grabbed her arm. She yanked herself away, aghast. He was glaring now, too. “Bitch! I didn't cheat on you because you're ugly, I cheated because you're a fucking _prude_!”

“Fuck you!” Brooke shoved him to the floor angrily, clenching her fists. “ _Fuck_! _You_! _Dustin_!” Fury billowed within her, rising through her throat as bile, erupting in the form of shrieks. “ _You fucking-motherfucker-jackass-douchebag-asshole-bastard_!”

Her fists were glowing brightly—her eyes might've been, too—and it took all of her willpower to pull herself together. She was _not_ going to expose her secret identity at Jake's halloween party, in front of _Dustin Kropp_ of all people. She was breathing heavily, shoulders tight, ire bubbling over—her hands were dimmed again, though. No more light, just cold, dark wrath. 

“What the fuck? Bitch!” He pushed himself into a sitting position, holding his head dazedly. “Fuck you, you fucking _freak_!”

“Get away from me!” she screamed, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. She couldn't handle this, not now. She was shrinking into herself, breath rapidly increasing. “Go away!”

“Brooke, hey!” 

Jake was next to her now—gently taking her by the shoulders, guiding her into another room. He looked at her worriedly, hands planted on her arms, keeping her grounded. She stared at his chest, unable to raise her head. He was wearing a costume that reminded her of Daveed Diggs in Hamilton. 

“Hey, it's okay, just take a breath...”

His voice was steady and calming, like a wave crashing on the shore. She found it easy to drown in his presence, breathing in his reassuring vibe. She exhaled, allowing herself to remember what was really important about tonight. 

“You good?” Jake asked, softly. She nodded, finally looking into his face. He was smiling now, expression more tender than she had ever seen. “Good. Sorry about Dustin. I knew I shouldn't've invited him, but he and I are on the debate team together and—I'm sorry. I know that he cheated on you and shit. It was really uncool of me.”

“You're fine, Jake. I just—I didn't think he'd be so— _so_ —”

“Vulgar?”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “What a douchebag—cheating on me because I wouldn't have _sex_ with him...”

“Yeah, that's fucked up, man,” Jake agreed, taking a step back to stretch. “Sex is cool and all, but only if it's consensual.”

“You're really smart, you know that?” Brooke said, smiling at him. He shrugged. “Seriously, Jake.”

“Thanks, Brooke. Are you feeling better?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I just needed to get out of that situation... Say, have you seen Jeremy?”

“Not yet,” Jake admitted. “He could be around and I missed him, though.” He glanced out the open doorway. “I gotta go find Dustin and kick that asshole out.”

“You don't have to—”

“Yeah, I do. If he's gonna be harassing my friends, he's no longer invited,” Jake said, solemnly. 

Brooke couldn't help but smile softly. She didn't appreciate Jake enough; even though she and he didn't talk very often, he was overwhelmingly loyal and considerate when it came down to it. Maybe there were lots of people she needed to take a second look at. 

“Thanks, Jake.” She stood up straighter, prepared to return to the battlefield. “See you later, I hope.”

He waved and she stepped back into the centre of the hubbub. To her surprise, she now caught sight of a familiar face. She flounced over to Jeremy, overjoyed he had finally decided to show up. 

“Jeremy! I almost thought you weren't coming!” Her voice sounded sweet, but was drenched in sarcasm. She gave a quick spin, keeping up her cheerful charade. “What d'you think of my costume? I figured, you _always_ see sexy _cats_ , but you never see a sexy _dog_.”

“It's very...” There was a pause and he finished with, “ _Original_.” Her smile faltered and she was tempted to punch him in the face right then and there. “I mean, amazing!” he amended, quickly. “Seriously, I can't believe I'm with a girl who looks like you.”

“You need a drink!” Brooke interjected, voice loud and smile bright. “Wait right here, I'll grab you one! Be right back!”

She scampered off to the refreshment table, pulling her phone out with shaky fingers. She needed to check on Michael before she did anything else. 

**_mmichaelmmellp1_ **

_u still alive?_

_barely_

_hes finally here_

_*Heere loool_

_sorry couldnt resist_

_u gonna lead him up here?_

_as soon as i can_

_ok ill b waiting_

She grabbed a can of beer (some cheapo brand, she wasn't picky right now) and headed back to the sofa she had left Jeremy standing by. She glared at the spot where he used to be as she realized that little shit was _gone_. She nearly screamed in frustration—why was _nothing_ going according to plan? 

“Brooke!”

Jenna—clad in a _horrific_ clown costume—bounded towards her, a mischievous glint in her eye. Brooke looked up at her sternly, not in the mood for gossip. Jenna was not deterred. 

“Brooke, I just saw Jeremy head upstairs,” Jenna exclaimed. 

“What? When? Where?” Brooke asked, demeanour completely shifting. Instead of mild annoyance, she had perked up, leaning forward intently. Jenna seemed pleased with herself. 

“Just a couple minutes ago. He was heading up to Jake's parents' room,” she said, whispering the location conspiratorially. “Do you wanna know _who_ was leading him up there?” Brooke nodded vigorously, eyes urging the other girl to continue. She leaned forward further, breath tickling Brooke's earlobe as she hissed, “ _Chloe_.”

Brooke stared at Jenna, wide-eyed. Chloe had lured Jeremy to a bedroom _alone_? Sure, Brooke didn't like Jeremy that way anymore, but she hadn't yet broken up with him. As far as Chloe knew, Brooke and Jeremy were still a couple. 

She thanked Jenna and hurriedly made her way upstairs. She huffed in irritation, muttering a string of swear words under her breath. Pushing through a group with red solo cups in hand, she knocked on a door at the end of the hallway. 

“Jeremy?” she called, shrilly. “Jenna Rolan said she saw you come in here!”

She could hear hushed voices and shuffling—she crossed her arms impatiently. What were they _doing_ in there? She heard a commotion down the hall and turned to see Jake barreling towards her with a glare. She raised an eyebrow as he pounded on the door. 

“Jeremy! You better not be having sex on my parents' bed!” he shouted. “I specifically told everyone that was _off-limits_!”

“ _GO AWAY, WE'RE BUSY SCREWING_!”

“ _Chloe_?” Jake gasped, face contorting with rage. 

“ _No we're not_!” Jeremy yelled, voice strangled. Brooke's fists were clenching again; Jake pounded harder against the wood. 

“Jeremy and I are having _hot sex_ all over your parents' linens!”

Brooke couldn't believe Chloe was doing this. Jeremy, she wouldn't put it past, but _Chloe_? Sure, she could be a queen bitch, still she had always been _loyal_. When Dustin had cheated on her, Chloe had taken her out to Pinkberry and let her vent, then taken her home for a sleepover. When she'd accidentally left the gate open and Parker had escaped the backyard, Chloe had spent all evening searching the neighbourhood until they found her. When she'd been so exhausted after a night of patrol that she fell asleep in math class, Chloe had taken notes for her without even being asked. She was a _teenager_ —she was just as much insecure as she was self-centered. She was still growing and maturing and Brooke understood that; that didn't mean she wasn't still enraged and hurt by her, though. 

Jake slammed his entire weight against the door and it finally swung open. Chloe was straddling Jeremy on the bed, sneering at the intruders. Jeremy's expression was panicked, pushing Chloe off of himself instantly, spluttering out excuses and apologies. Jake shouted about how he was going to murder the boy; Chloe leaned over the edge of the mattress, dazedly. 

“ _How could you_?” Brooke hissed, harshly wiping her eyes as her best friend lay atop the bed. Chloe just mumbled something about how drunk she was and began heaving loudly. 

“Damn it, Chloe,” Jake sighed, running a hand through his wig. He tiredly approached the intoxicated teen, kneeling next to her and tenderly holding her hair out of the way of her vomit. “This is never gonna come out of the carpet...”

Brooke turned around to give them space and find Jeremy ( _again_ ). She just caught his back as he retreated down the hall, flailing wildly. She called his name, but he didn't stop, running until he sharply turned into—oh. She let out a sigh of relief. _The bathroom_. 

She quickly followed him down the hall. She mumbled a, “ _Sorry_ ,” to a couple making out against the wall as she scooted passed them, and pushed into the bathroom. Then, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Michael's costume.

“ _Jesus_ , Michael.”

“What? Too much?” he asked, slipping off the suit made of recycled pop cans. She waved her hand in a _so-so_ gesture. 

Jeremy glanced between them, perplexed. “You two know each other?”

“Yeah. We bonded over hating SQUIPs,” Brooke said, with a sugary sweet smile and rage-filled words. Jeremy flinched. 

“How do you—how do you know about—?”

Thankfully, she and Michael had come up with a backstory for this very situation. 

“We have a mutual friend whose brother took one,” she said, folding her arms and leaning against the door. 

Michael nodded along, plopping down next to Jeremy on the edge of the tub. “Guess where he is now?”

“Uh... Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like the answer to this?”

“He's in a mental hospital.” Brooke could practically feel the icy chill flood through the room at Michael's words. She watched Jeremy's eyes widen. “Totally lost it.”

Jeremy didn't say anything for a moment. Brooke thought about Harrison's expression again and hugged herself dolefully. No one deserved to feel that hopeless—that _sad_ —ever. If she could stop even _one_ person from making the same mistake as Harrison or Janet...

“I—I don't get what that has to do with _me_.” 

Her head snapped toward him in disbelief. “What the _fuck_ , Jeremy?” He shrunk slightly at her tone. “We just don't want you to get hurt! We've seen firsthand how these things have ruined people's lives!”

“We're trying to _help_ you,” Michael added, equally incredulous. How could he not see what they were saying? Jeremy stood up from his perch, crossing his arms. 

“Well... I don't need your help. My _SQUIP_ is helping me.”

Brooke scoffed loudly. “Looks like it was doing a bang-up job so far! How was it ‘ _helping_ ’ you two minutes ago? Cause it _looked_ like you were cheating on me and being straddled by my best friend.” 

Jeremy's face flushed. “I—that wasn't—”

“Right.” Brooke nodded, laughing sarcastically. “And, let's see what else: it made you completely ditch Michael, use me as a stepping stone to popularity, and, what, become a complete asshat? That about cover it, Jere?”

“You don't know what it's like!” Jeremy retorted, hotly. “My dad is a deadbeat, my mom left, I was being bullied every day, and my only friend in the world didn't care!”

Michael froze, staring at Jeremy in disbelief. His voice was so small when he finally whispered, “...what?”

“You always just dismiss _everything_! ‘ _Oh, my mothers would be thrilled_!’ ‘ _We'll be cool in college, Jeremy_!’ ‘ _Embrace being a loser_!’” Jeremy laughed bitterly. “Did it ever occur to you that I needed someone to let me be sad sometimes? To validate my feelings?”

“I...” Michael's eyes were filling with tears. “I didn't know you—I mean—I—I was trying to make you feel _better_ —”

“ _Well, you didn't_!”

“Jeremy.” Brooke pulled his attention away from his friend—she could tell Michael was going to cry if he kept talking—and grabbed his shoulders. “Look, you've both hurt each other, that much is clear, but we have bigger things to worry about. You can have a proper falling out later. Right now, we have to get that _thing_ out of your head. It could _kill_ you.”

Jeremy scoffed. “ _Kill me_? _Really_ , Brooke?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation, no humour, no question to her voice; Jeremy was taken aback. “Think about it: it has access to your brain, which has access to literally your entire body. If it wanted to simulate a heart attack or seizure—” ( _Or internal electrocution._ ) “—it _could_ , within _seconds_.”

“Wh—Why would it _want_ to do that, though?” he asked, tugging at his sleeves. 

“Why does it _want_ to help you become _popular_?” she shot back. “It is a _machine_ , Jeremy, it doesn't have _wants_ —all of this has been programmed by _someone_ , and, based on what Michael and I have seen, that someone has evil intentions.”

“Michael is the one who told me technology isn't dangerous!”

“Well, I was wrong.” Jeremy whipped his head back to Michael, who had seemingly pulled himself together, though his lip quivered slightly. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I wasn't a better friend. _Please_ , Jeremy, just _listen to us_.” He took a step forward. “I want to make amends with you, but I can't do that if you're fucking _dead_.”

The room went silent for a minute. Brooke had bated breath as Jeremy and Michael stared at each other. For a moment— _a mere instant_ —guilt flickered across Jeremy's features. As soon as it passed, it was replaced with discontent. 

“I think you're jealous,” he said, cold and calculated, “that I have one and you don't.”

“ _Seriously_?” Michael was incredulous. “Jeremy—”

“My life is going great for once! I'm actually _liked_ and not just _tolerated_!” Jeremy backed away, folding his arms once again. “My SQUIP has been nothing but helpful. More help than you ever were. So thanks, but no thanks.” He turned to leave; Brooke stood in front of the door. “Get out of my way, Brooke.”

“Or _what_? You'll hurt my feelings again? Been there, done that.” She leaned against the wood, lazily. “What reason do _I_ have to be lying about all this? Hm? Why am I trying so hard to get rid of your SQUIP?”

“Because you hate that it made everyone like _me_ while they still don't like _you_.” 

He shot her in the chest. Blood was gushing, bones were cracking, she was falling—the impact sent her careening backwards, hitting the door with a thud—no physical attack could inflict the same damage his words had. He spat out something about losers as he shoved passed her, leaving her bleeding out in the bathroom. She sat down on the tile, collecting the pieces of herself tearfully. 

“Fuck you, Jeremy,” she whispered. 

She and Michael had sat and cried together for half an hour, until they had no tears left. Jeremy Heere had torn them apart limb from limb without laying a hand on them. Not many could do that, especially to two superheroes. His words were corrosive and sharp—powerful bullets that never missed. Nothing had changed, except the chipped china across their skin, the broken pieces clumsily pasted back together, not quite the same, forever cracked due to one boy they had wanted to save. 

“I'm done,” Michael whispered hoarsely. Brooke tilted her head in his direction. “We can't help him, Brooke. It doesn't matter.” He stood on shaky feet. “I'm going home.”

“We can't just leave him to die,” Brooke argued, still curled up in the bathtub, knees to her chest, feeling oh so small. 

Michael shrugged; the life seemed to have left his eyes. “What else can we do? We don't know how to get rid of it.” He put his hands in his pockets, resignation overtaking him. “I'm gonna wait in the car. I won't leave without you, but... don't take too long.”

The door shut softly behind him. She buried her head in her arms. Apart from the muffled pandemonium downstairs, it was silent. She was alone with only her thoughts to keep her company—they weren't pleasant ones, either. She should have done more, tried harder, fought back... She was sweating, warmth rising within her. Shame, she reckoned. That, or someone had cranked the thermostat. 

People were screaming now. At first, only a few—just drunk teenagers letting loose, nothing strange—then more and more, louder and louder. Brooke got to her feet, craning her neck to hear. The music had ceased and footsteps thudded throughout the house and screams were endless. What was going on? 

Then, the screams became clear: “ _FIRE_!”

Her eyes burst open wide. _Fire_? She stumbled forward, grabbing the doorknob momentarily before yanking her hand back with a yelp. It was burning to the touch. Smoke was sluggishly seeping through the crack under the door. Her mind was racing faster than her heartbeat. 

Wordlessly, she shot a beam of light at the doorknob, breaking it away, and shoved her body weight against the door. The hallway was shrouded by a thick cloud, deep and black; she choked, hands instinctually flying to her mouth as the haze filled her lungs. Conjuring a force field to shield her face, she tried to remember everything she knew about fire safety. Why were school fire drills just about calmly walking outside? She didn't know what to do when you couldn't breathe. 

Lurching into the corridor, pushing against the fumes, she pulled some sunlight into her palm as she squinted through the blackness. Identity be damned, she needed to make sure everyone was safe. Flames were lapping at the walls, devouring photo frames and sconces, charring the wallpaper angrily. Heat was all consuming, lulling her into lightheadedness. But she couldn't succumb; she needed to make sure no one was trapped up here. 

The stairs had collapsed—she could see the remnants of a banister and crumbling steps, wood still tumbling to the floor below, burnt beyond recognition. She prayed that everyone had escaped before that occurred. A whimper caught her attention. Crying, _sobbing_ , she realized, coming from another room. She wasn't alone up here. Cursing, she hovered—no longer trusting the creaking floorboards to support her feet—through a door on her right, letting out a sharp intake of breath. 

_Rich_. 

“Rich!” she called, crossing the room towards him, only to be cut off by a chunk of the ceiling dropping in front of her. She narrowly avoided it, peering through the flames and smoke, trying to spot her friend. 

“B-Brooke?” His voice was choked, wet with tears, shaking with anguish. “No, no, no, no, you're not supposed to be here!”

“Neither are you!” she shot back. He was on fire—he was on! _fire!_ —and he was just sitting there on the ground, barely reacting. “Rich, do the fucking— _fucking_ —stop, drop, and roll! Rich, _please_!”

He shook his head—he was _weeping_ , he was _out of his mind_ —and she was on the brink of tears as well. She could see his skin—god, it was _horrendous_ , he must be in such awful pain—and she frantically rifled through her minimal fire knowledge. Shit, fire needed oxygen to burn, didn't it? Cue Brooke acting on impulse, with no chance to debate if her idea would even work: she created an airtight force field around her crush. 

To her credit, it worked—the flames covering Rich's body died in seconds—but then, he started grasping at his throat and sucking in sharp breaths and shaking— _shaking, shaking, shaking_ —and Brooke released him in a panic. The shaking didn't stop, though. In fact, the entire room— _the entire_ _house_ —began to shudder violently. If the foundation hadn't been unstable before, it certainly was now. She gaped at him in disbelief. This was no normal human quivering. 

“Quaker?” she gasped, floating down to Rich's side, careful not to touch him. He nodded despondently, finally looking into her face, eyes red and puffy with tears. He was still sending seismic waves through the house and she knew it wouldn't last much longer. “Quaker— _Rich_ —we need to get out of here.” Fire was closing in around them, she could barely breathe, the walls were crumbling— “ _Please_.”

He shook his head again. “Go. Leave me here! I deserve this! _It_ deserves this!”

“ _It_?” He continued shaking his head; Brooke watched flames lick at the bed they cowered behind. “I'm not going to let you kill yourself, Rich!” Glowing, she grabbed him by the shoulders and whispered, “I'm getting us out of here.”

Force field surrounding them, she hugged Rich tightly to her body and flew out of the window. Shards of glass scattered to the ground below, covering the grass; they levitated gently to the dirt, sitting inside a glowing orb in Jake Dillinger's backyard, and Rich began to sob again. Brooke held him closer. 

Her phone was vibrating frenziedly, she realized, and, despite the numbness overtaking her emotions, she used one hand to pull it out, still gripping Rich's shirt as he wept into her shoulder. Every text was from Michael. 

**_mmichaelmmellp1_ **

_im in the car_

_r u ready yet?_

_brooke?_

_wtf_

_shit is that smoke???_

_BROOKE_

_GTFO_

_THE HOUSE IS ON FUCKING FIRE_

_BROOKE_

_ANSWER_

_PLEASE_

_SHIT_

_I CANT GET INSIDE_

_PLEASE BE OK PLEASE PLEASE_

_imokiminthebackyard_

It was a struggle to type with only one hand and she couldn't manage spaces. Michael would understand. She let out a breath, shivering as she and Rich sat among grass and glass. 

**_mmichaelmmellp1_ **

_OH THANK FUCKING GOD_

_thank the fucking lord_

_fuck_

_ok im coming_

_y r u in the backyard?_

_nvm ill ask u in person_

Rich needed to go to the hospital. She needed to get him to the hospital. She didn't even know how they were still _alive_. She tensed, banishing that thought from her mind. She wasn't allowed to think like that, not now, not ever. 

“Brooke!” Michael ran towards her, stopping when he saw the small body curled into hers. “Rich?”

“Hospital,” she choked, silently promising to explain everything later. 

He nodded, shouting loudly for help. There must've been EMTs already on the scene, because within seconds she and Rich were being lifted onto stretchers and interrogated gently. Brooke managed to answer everything—( _she doesn't know how the fire started, she and Rich had to climb out the window to escape the second floor, etc_ )—and she was physically fine, with nothing more than a few scrapes, bruises, and mild smoke inhalation, which seemed to get cleared up after a few minutes with an oxygen mask. Rich, on the other hand... 

“Let me come with him,” she begged, as he was carted into the ambulance. “I won't leave him alone! Please!”

Michael tried to argue against it, but she pushed him away, tugging at the paramedic's sleeve, pleading through teary eyes. He sighed and allowed her to clamber into the back of the ambulance, leaving Michael on the lawn. Her mind could only focus on Rich right now, sitting stiffly next to him, fixated on his half-lidded eyes. He was going to make it. He _was_. 

The ride was loud and rocky, speeding through the city, sirens blaring, paramedics fretting over Rich's body. Brooke sat quietly, staring and staying out of their way, eyes never leaving Rich's face. He looked so small, so weak... She had never seen him so docile, so _fragile_ , like he would shatter to pieces at any moment. Her senses were dulled, entire body heavy and numb. She couldn't feel her fingers. _Rich was going to be okay_. 

Her phone vibrated, but they were at the hospital and she frankly couldn't bring herself to do anything besides follow Rich and the doctors. Reaching the emergency room, she was blocked off. No amount of begging would grant her access. She crouched in the middle of the hallway and cried. 

“Brooke, here, _anak_ , come with me.” 

Tender hands were on her shoulders, helping her to her feet and leading her into a waiting room. When she looked up with tears pouring down her cheeks and snot from her nose, she was greeted by Mahalina Mell, one of Michael's mothers. The woman smiled warmly closing her fingers around Brooke's. 

“Micah is on his way. You will stay with us tonight, yes?” Brooke nodded, lifelessly. Her entire body wasn't real, none of this was real. “Your friend will be well taken care of. He is safe. _You_ are safe.”

Mahalina sat with her until Michael arrived. He looked hysterical, though his movements were soft, gentle, thought out—he wrapped an arm around Brooke's shoulder, gingerly leading her out of the hospital, to his car. He helped strap her in, drove them to his house with some radio station as background noise, led her into the basement...

Brooke let her eyes close. Finally, exhaustion had won. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **SO MANY NOTES OKAY LET'S BEGIN**
> 
> Michael got anxious, so he waited in the bathroom :3
> 
> Dustin is an asshole who doesn't respect Brooke.
> 
> Jake, on the other hand, drinks so much respect women juice, he's the best boy, we love 😌✨
> 
> Chloe is not a great friend, but you can probably tell I love all these characters and spoiler they're all gonna learn to be good friends by the end of this fic
> 
> Jeremy is very swindled by his SQUIP, even when it's off
> 
> HEAR ME OUT OKAY some of the stuff Michael says and does is Not Greatest Friend Behaviour, BUT at the same time I totally understand and respect how he's TRYING to be a good friend and just not realizing that jokey dismissal isn't what Jeremy needs. At the same same time, Jeremy doesn't voice his feelings and then just completely ditches Michael for a crush and maybe more friends/popularity, so he's not completely Great either. These boys need to work on 🎶communication🎶 
> 
> Also, in this version, it being a superhero au, the SQUIP is 100% on purpose a VILLAIN under the guise of a learning computer. Really it's been programmed to take over the world lol so Michael's whole "technology isn't dangerous on its own, its just how you choose to use it" thing is moot lol
> 
> Brooke feels liked she's not loved by her friends and Jeremy twists that blade a LOT
> 
> Michael feels empty and defeated
> 
> So does Brooke
> 
> 🎶RICH SET A FIRE AND HE BURNED DOWN JAKE'S HOUSE!!!!!🎶
> 
> He's so sad my bOY 😭😭😭
> 
> Brooke is being overwhelmed by emotion and information and it makes sense that she eventually just numbs to it all (she'll have a freak out tomorrow) 
> 
> Michael thought he left Brooke to die in a burning house by mistake oof ashdgdkks my poor gay son
> 
> If you read my other BMC fic, you'll know that Michael's mom, Mahalina, is a nurse, so that's why she's randomly at the hospital loool 
> 
> And Brooke needs REST. MY POOR BABY 😭
> 
> And this was basically me just live reading/reacting my own fic, but I AM VERY HAPPY WITH THIS CHAOTIC CHAPTER!!!!!! So much happened and my poor children need so much help omgggg
> 
> Thank you for reading!!!!! I love you all so much!!! ~Jayce


	7. Embers Alight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's see how Brooke is doing after the last chapter, shall we?

Consciousness arrived slowly. Memories, slower still. 

She was running through a maze of windows and doors, away from an echoing maniacal laugh without a body to host it. It was Jeremy's SQUIP, that much she knew. Pounding her fists against the wall, she screamed as it cackled, closer and closer. She couldn't stop it. Flames were devouring her now, Rich was dead, Michael was beeping—

The dream was fading as the beeping grew more in focus. Shuffling and muttered Tagalog roused her, laughter and fire fading. There were a few heavy slaps against wood, then finally the alarm clock's shrill warnings ceased. Michael let out a grumbling sigh. 

“Brooke?” His voice was quiet, hesitant. She shifted, letting out a disgruntled groan of her own. “Sorry about that. I forgot to turn the alarm off last night.”

“S'okay,” she mumbled, still not quite in the same plane of existence as Michael was. She felt herself drifting again; Michael said something but she barely registered it. 

She dozed back into blissful slumber.

It must've been a few hours later she awoke for the second time, less groggy and memories stabbing her sharply. She rubbed her eyes harshly, propping herself up on an elbow as her brain whirring through all of the events from the night prior. 

Shit, the fire. 

Shit, _Rich_!

She pushed herself up too quickly and nearly fell back against the pillows again. She blinked blearily, scanning the room. Michael's bedroom looked the same as yesterday, except the loveseat was more dishevelled—clearly, Michael had slept there, allowing Brooke to take his bed. What a gentleman. But he wasn't here now. Her heartbeat picked up its pace. _Where was he?_

Straining, she could make out voices and footsteps from the floor above. He must be upstairs. A glance at the alarm clock said it was nearly noon. Swallowing, she awkwardly peeled the duvet off of her, shakily getting to her feet. She was still clad in her godawful costume; she had no doubt she looked horrible, hair unkempt and make-up runny. None of it felt important now, though. 

She ascended the stairs as quickly as she could, mind spinning with a single thought: _Rich_. Richard, Richard, Rich. She _needed_ to see him. Once she tentatively pushed open the basement door and peeked into the family room, Noor grinned widely at her. 

“Brooke!” Noor was up on her feet (rather, one foot and two crutches) in an instant, pulling Brooke into a firm embrace. “Honey, how are you feeling? Micah told me everything—you've been through so much!”

“I'm—” How _was_ she feeling? “Tired,” she decided. She could see Michael buzzing about the kitchen, headphones on. “Is Michael okay? I'm so _so_ sorry if I got him into any trouble—”

“Baby, he's _fine_ —emotionally, not so much, but he's okay. _You're_ the one I've been worried about.” Noor cupped her face gently, eyes filled with tender worry. “You saved your friend from a _burning building_. That's heart-rending enough on its own, not even considering everything you and Michael have been trying to deal with about SQUIPs!”

“You—he told you—?”

“Of course! Lina and I both know everything he's up to as Retro—he only told us your identity because we grilled him about last night and he was overwhelmed, I apologize for that—doesn't your Mama know you're Sunshine?” Brooke shook her head, vaguely remembering how Michael had mentioned his mothers knew his identity; she couldn't imagine ever revealing herself to her own family. Noor frowned. “You're dealing with all this hero hullabaloo on your own? Love, you need a support system.”

“I have my mentor and his family,” Brooke said hoarsely, voice strained from everything the evening previous, “and Michael now, too.”

Noor hummed disapprovingly. “Me and Mahalina, as well. Don't think you can leave us out of this anymore, sweetie.” She patted Brooke's cheeks softly. “You must be starved—come on, Mikey's making grilled cheese. After lunch, you two can go up to the hospital to see your friend.”

 _Rich!_ Brooke nodded vigorously, unsure if she could bear to wait that long to see him. Noor seemed to understand, because she squeezed Brooke's shoulder comfortingly before hobbling her way around the dining room table to the kitchen with the blonde trailing behind. Upon noticing them, Michael yanked his headphones around his neck and wrapped his arms around Brooke tightly. 

“Brooke! Thank _fuck_ —are you okay?” He pulled away briefly to look her up and down, then went in for the hug again. “I thought I had—I mean, I was scared I—I—”

“You didn't do anything wrong,” Brooke said, fingers gripping the fabric of his hoodie, burying her face in his shoulder. “You had no reason to think the house would get set on fire—you were just as emotionally distraught as I was, it was perfectly fine for you to leave the house. Plus, I mean, we're both superheroes, so...” 

“ _Still_.”

“ _Shut up_.”

They both laughed comfortably. It felt like they had been friends forever. Unfortunately, they had no time to appreciate this. 

“So,” Michael said, turning back to this griddle, “we see Rich after lunch?”

Brooke nodded, sliding into a chair at the kitchen table. “If that's okay with you.”

Michael nodded, flipping the sandwiches. “I mean, he's not really _my_ friend, but he's yours. Plus, I still want him to be okay, obviously.” He glanced back at her. “What do you have with your grilled cheese?”

“Jelly or jam, if you have any,” Brooke said politely. Noor, who had been pretending she wasn't eavesdropping, opened the fridge and pulled out a grape jelly. “Thank you, Noor.”

“And for you,” she said, handing Michael a bottle of ketchup. 

“Thanks, Mama,” he said, letting her kiss his temple. He doled out the grilled cheese, plopping down next to Brooke at the table. “Dig in.”

She wasn't sure if it was due to the fact that she hadn't eaten anything substantial in so long or if Michael was truly _that_ good at making grilled cheese, but she thought this was the most delicious meal she'd ever had. 

“Brooke, honey, do you think you'd fit into any of my clothes?” Noor asked. Brooke considered her for a moment—she was taller and had wider hips—then shook her head. Noor hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe we can find something. I just don't think you'll want to go to the hospital looking like...”

“Like an undead clown dog,” Michael offered, teasingly. 

Brooke elbowed him playfully, but nodded. “Yeah, it'd be nice to get out of this stupid costume. Maybe have a shower.”

“Micah, you can clean up here; I'll help Brooke start up the shower, and scrounge around to find her something to wear. Okay, sweetheart?” Michael nodded, swiping up Brooke's empty plate. Noor stood up, gesturing for Brooke to follow. “Okay, sweetie, let's get you cleaned up.”

_1 Missed Call: Chloe Vday 💋_

She tugged timidly on her pants as she stood in the hospital elevator with Michael. Noor had managed to find a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that were both only _slightly_ too big on her—paired with a belt, everything stayed in place. It felt strange, wearing another woman's clothing, but it beat being in public in a tattered and singed Halloween costume. 

“Okay, Nanay said he was in room 311A,” Michael said, muttering the room numbers to himself as they walked past. 

Brooke wrung her hands anxiously as they went, hoping Rich was okay. She wasn't sure she'd be able to live with herself if he wasn't... 

Michael stopped. “This is it.” He glanced over at her. “Do you want to go in alone?”

“Um... not—not really,” she stammered. She wasn't sure if she could move her feet. What was going to happen when she saw him? 

“Okay.” Michael put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Hey. It'll be okay. My mom said he's stable—awake, even. He'll be happy to see you. You saved his _life_ , Brooke.” He smiled at her. “C'mon. Let's go see your man.”

Her face flushed and she spluttered, “He's not my— _Michael_!” 

He had already stepped into the room. She hurriedly followed him, then stopped short when she saw Rich. Michael leaned against the wall nonchalantly, letting Brooke go up to his bed alone. She gently laid a hand on his arm; his entire body was covered by plaster, with only his face visible. 

“Rich,” she breathed. 

He tilted his head towards her, wincing. His eyes widened upon seeing her face. “Brooke...?”

“How—how are you holding up?” she asked, tentatively sitting on the chair next to his bed. He hummed noncommitally. She fidgeted nervously. “Um... so, we should probably talk about last night—” 

“I'm sorry,” he blurted. “I endangered your life and—and everyone's lives, and I never should've tried it that way—”

“You tried to—to—” She couldn't say it. She knew what he had tried to do, but she couldn't bring herself to say the words. “I'm sorry I didn't see the signs. I—I could've helped you—”

“No,” he interrupted, “you couldn't've. I—I wasn't ready to be helped; I thought I could handle everything all on my own. I was wrong, obviously.” His eyes began to well up with tears. “Shit, sorry.”

“No, no, don't apologize!” She yanked a tissue from the box on his bedside table, gingerly wiping away the tears that escaped. “You—you have _so_ much going on, it's okay to cry! I mean, school, and mental health, and everything with Quaker—”

“Quaker?” His eyes widened dramatically. “What? No, I'm not—”

“Rich,” she said, tenderly, “I know. You accidentally revealed yourself to me last night. But, I mean...” She illuminated a small ball of light between her fingers. “I'm a pretty safe person to out yourself to.”

“Oh... So it _was_ telling the truth...” He laughed bitterly. “I almost thought it was just fucking with me, to keep me obedient—”

“Um... _what_ was fucking with you?”

His humourless smile dropped off his face in an instant. “Fuck. I mean—I, uh—”

“You have a SQUIP,” Michael said suddenly. 

“ _What_?” Brooke gasped, whipping her head around to look at him. He was standing up straight now, hesitantly walking toward the bed. 

“Fuck—Headphones—I—I didn't know you—you were—” 

Rich looked like he was about to have a panic attack and Brooke quickly piped up, “It's okay! He's with us!”

“I'm Retro,” he said, making the television flicker. Then he took another step forward. “But you do, don't you? You were the one who introduced Jeremy to them.”

Rich nodded, shamefully. “I'm sorry... I—I shouldn't've done that, it just—it told me to and—and I thought it was helping me, but—”

“It could kill you,” Michael said, chillingly. 

“It almost did,” Rich murmured. “It was the reason I—I—” He swallowed; Brooke instinctively reached for his hand. “I felt so awful and alone and _helpless_. I just wanted it out of my head and that was the only way I could think of accomplishing that...”

“Oh, Rich...” He didn't want endless apologies, that much Brooke knew, so she held her tongue. Instead, she asked the question she so feared. “Is—is that the only way to—to—?”

“No, but... the only other way I know how is impossible,” Rich muttered, crestfallen. 

“We—we can figure something out,” Brooke insisted. “We're superheroes, R; everything will be okay.”

He didn't seem to believe her. 

“What's this purportedly _impossible_ deactivation method? Humour me,” Michael said, arms crossed. 

Rich let out a bitter chuckle. “Mountain Dew Red. Not _Code Red_ , mind you— _Red_ Red. Like, _Discontinued In The Nineties_ Red.” Another humourless laugh. “Like I said: impossible.”

“No shit?” Michael asked, eyebrows raised. Rich nodded. Michael hummed and Brooke could practically see the gears whirring in his brain. “Okay, I gotta call someone—I'll be right outside the room, 'kay, Brooke?”

Brooke nodded. After he had vacated the room, she turned her attention back to Rich. He looked at her with a melancholic expression. Before either of them could speak, Brooke's phone buzzed. 

_Incoming Call: Chloe Vday 💋_

“Ugh,” Brooke mumbled, hitting ignore. “Sorry about that.”

“No, I—I don't want to get in the way—”

“Rich? Shut up,” Brooke said, poking his cheek fondly, careful to avoid his burns. “You're _not_ in the way.”

Her phone vibrated again. Rich cringed. “You can answer. I don't mind, really!”

Brooke shook her head. “Chloe can wait. I like being with you more than her, anyway.”

There was a pause where neither of them knew what to say. After a solid minute, Brooke said the thing they both were thinking:

“Awkward turtle...”

Rich burst out laughing. Brooke went slack-jawed; her heart was racing at how soft he looked. She wanted to tell him how cute he was—how _gorgeous_ he was—but now was _definitely not_ the time. 

“Oh my god, we're _actually_ middle schoolers,” Rich snickered. “Awkward turtle, man... So glad we're past that stage.”

“Oh, my little sister is deep in that stage now,” Brooke said, giggling. “Everything's awkward turtles, asdfmovies, silent ninjas—”

“Oh my god! I forgot about that game—it was the best!”

“—and reclaiming the word weird,” Brooke finished, smiling reminiscently. “Do you remember those days? Being in, like, grade seven and celebrating that your class was filled with weirdos?”

“Uh, no? What elementary school did _you_ go to?”

“Wilbert. Huh, I really thought that was a universal experience,” Brooke said, frowning. “My class was ridiculous and fully embraced it. Whenever we'd meet up for Young People's Concerts or festivals or shit, we'd purposefully be excited about being the craziest kids in the room.”

“Huh... I wish I had that,” Rich said. 

“That didn't last to high school though. It was like, as soon as we walked through those doors, we didn't think weird was cool anymore, so we all changed.” She hummed thoughtfully. “I wish high school didn't do that to people, y'know? What's wrong with weird?”

“I like the idea of that,” he said, softly. 

“We should do it, then,” she said, “when we go back to school. We can just be ourselves and embrace our weirdness.”

“I'm not allowed,” Rich said, sadly. When Brooke gave him a questioning look, he expanded, quietly, “My SQUIP. Once it reactivates, it'll never let me do anything remotely ‘weird.’”

“Why isn't it on now?” Brooke asked. “You said it could only be shut down by Mountain Dew Red, right?”

“I think it's, like, rebooting after the fire,” he said. “I can still kinda feel its presence though? Like, I know that it's not _gone_ , just dormant, or whatever.” He sighed. “Whatever...”

“Hey.” Rich tilted his head toward her—she was smiling encouragingly. “We'll figure it out, okay? I promise.” 

He managed a smile of his own, though it wasn't confident. “Thanks, B. I—I don't know what I'd do without you.” Then, he laughed to himself and added, coyly, “Except, I wouldn't have been reminded of another grade seven classic, which has subsequently ruined my life.” He smirked before simpering, “I just lost the game.”

“ _Dammit, Rich!_ ”

Despite her mock frustration, Brooke was laughing along with him. Everything was different, yet the same. She knew in that moment, they'd be all right. 

Admittedly, Brooke had forgotten about the play until Rich reminded her. She _could_ skip, certainly, to stay here with Rich. However, a doctor was hovering by the door and she could tell they were waiting for Rich to be alone. So, with an awkward pat to his shoulder, she bid him _bonsoir_ , promising to visit him again soon. Upon exiting the room, she finally checked the messages from Chloe.

**_Chloe Vday 💋_ **

_omg brooke answer me!_

_wait until i tell u what i saw!_

_and also 😣_

_im srry that jeremy made out with me @ the party but it was totally his fault and lets not let boys ever come btween us evr again mkay??_

_☺️💄🐾_

Brooke left Chloe on read, not yet ready to talk with her. Rich was more important right now. (And always.) Besides, she would see her tonight at the play. They could talk in person. 

She shoved her phone back in her pocket, peering around for any sign of Michael. Where had he gone? She thought he was just taking a phone call. 

“Brooke, _anak_ ,” Mahalina greeted, approaching her with a smile. “Are you leaving?”

“I think so,” Brooke said. “There's this play I'm a part of at school tonight and I don't think I can handle just sitting at home with Rich in here... Um, do you know where Michael went?”

“He had to pick up something from the mall,” the woman said, apologetically. “I don't know how long he will be; he thought you'd be here with Richard longer.”

“That's okay, I can, um,” she hesitated, modes of transportation flying through her mind, before finishing with, “take the bus.”

Mahalina nodded, understandingly. “Call if you need _anything_ , yes?”

“Thank you, Mahalina. I'll see you, um, sometime soon?” She waved as she headed to the elevator. “Bye!”

As soon as she was on the ground floor, her stomach felt queasy. Why did her bowels insist on being a foretoken? She pressed forward, though, ignoring the omens. What else could she do? 

The bus stop was quiet. Brooke stood next to an elderly woman, bundled warmly, and a middle-aged man with his earbuds in, scrolling boredly through his phone. There was someone lying on the bench, as well, covered by raggedy blankets and with a collection of pop cans beneath them. She pursed her lips as she stared at the homeless figure. She didn't have any physical money on her, only her debit card. Her heart ached for them—was it possible for her to end homelessness? Why did her chest tighten over things out of her control?

The bus arrived and she pulled out her compass card, pushing away thoughts of the homeless population—she could do nothing for them at this very moment in time, so stressing about it would do no good. Finding a seat at the back, she allowed herself to deflate, letting out a long breath she didn't realize she had been holding. Her shoulders relaxed, her brow smoothed, her tension released. After everything from this week, it was a relief to exhale. 

She got off a few stops before her school so she could grab an early dinner. Burger King was never a bad choice. A delicious burger, fries, and root beer later, she was ready to head to the play. She decided to walk, since it wasn't too far and she was still pretty early. All through this, she felt a sense of dread, bubbling up within her, sending chills down her spine. Once at the school, she took a deep breath in and composed herself before pushing open the doors. 

“Brooke!” Christine Canigula sprinted up to her, relief spread across her features. “Thank god! Okay, we're doing our final run-through backstage right now; Jeremy hasn't arrived yet and Rich is—” She swallowed, smile dipping for a moment before she forced it back. “Mr. Reyes will be understudying Rich! Anyways, c'mon, we gotta make sure all the costumes fit.”

Brooke nodded, still processing everything the girl had said, following her to the drama room. Chloe, Jenna, Mr. Reyes, and Jake all awaited there, mostly looking bored with the exception of the teacher. Brooke felt her heart stop when she saw Jake leaning his entire body weight onto two crutches, with both his legs in casts. He gave her a tired smile when she met his gaze. There was a ‘ _I don't think this is what they mean by break a leg_ ’ joke in her head, but, like a sensible person, she kept her mouth shut. 

“Brooke!” Chloe was by her side in an instant, flashing that sugary sweet smile that Brooke knew was fake. “We're cool, right?”

“Could we talk later, Chlo? Like, after the play?”

Chloe's smile dropped off her face. “Why?”

“I'm tired,” Brooke said, honestly. Chloe scoffed and Brooke, patience wearing thin, glared at her. “ _What_? Am I not allowed to be tired?”

“Too tired to chat about something juicy?” Chloe said, coyly. 

Brooke sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Do you honestly think some gossip is going to fix everything? You tried to _sleep with Jeremy_ , Chloe! While he was still _my_ boyfriend! You can't just say ‘ _oh here's some tea!_ ’ and expect me to forgive you.”

“But—”

“Not to mention, I'm not exactly in the greatest emotional state right now! I mean, _read_ the fucking _room_! Jake's house caught _fire_ last night, he broke _both his legs_ , and Rich is in the _hospital_ with severe burns! It's lucky that _more_ people weren't injured!” Brooke crossed her arms, glancing away. “Sorry that I don't really care about what the grapevine has to say right now.”

Chloe gaped, opening and closing her mouth like a goldfish for a few moments, stunned that her typically meek friend was speaking out. Brooke pushed past her to sit next to Christine, instead. Christine smiled sympathetically and patted her on shoulder graciously. Finally, Chloe muttered an indignant, “ _Whatever_ ,” and sat between Jake and Jenna, arms crossed. 

Mr. Reyes, thoroughly discombobulated and disconcerted, clapped his hands together and announced that they would begin their final rehearsal now. Brooke couldn't be more relieved. 

“Do you feel ready?” Christine asked. 

Brooke shrugged. “I'm definitely not great at this stuff... But, I mean, I'm having fun, and that's all that matters, right?”

Christine beamed at her. “Yeah!” She peered out to the audience, filled with friends and family members. “My parents couldn't make it tonight, but my older brother, Bryce, is here... Oh! There he is!”

Brooke squinted through the dark rows, trying to spot the man Christine pointed to. He seemed to notice them peeking out from backstage and waved. Brooke smiled. 

“That's nice that he could come. I don't think my family even knows I'm doing this.”

“Why not?”

“I've been busy recently and, honestly, the play hasn't been at the forefront of my mind,” Brooke admitted. “Things seem to finally be slowing down now, though, which is nice.”

“Well, hopefully tonight will be a bit of a reprieve for you, then,” Christine said, squeezing Brooke's arm gently. 

“Thanks, Christine.”

“ _Places everyone_!”

Christine grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “That's our cue! Ready?”

Brooke nodded. “Let's do this.”

As they stood on stage, clad in ridiculous costumes, rifling through quotes that were strange amalgamations of Shakespearean English and modern slang, Brooke almost laughed. What had her life come to? She had gone from waking up mildly hungover in a sexy dog costume to standing stage left in a... whatever this costume was. On top of that, most of her days were half spent in a spandex jumpsuit too... Damn, her life really revolved around being someone other than herself, didn't it?

She barely noticed when it was her turn to speak and she almost missed her line, but quickly recovered. When handed a beaker filled with green-tinged liquid and tictacs at the bottom, she took a swig without a second thought. After all, it was part of the play, part of the _script_. But, moments after she consumed the drink, she felt a sharp pain in her head. 

“ _Ouch_ ,” she said reflexively, reaching for her temple absentmindedly. What was _that_? She glanced down at the glass; it looked like Gatorade or Sparkling Ice or something. Nothing that might cause a headache. 

_`Calibration in process. Please excuse some mild discomfort.` _

“What the fuck?” she yelped, both hands on her head now. 

_`Calibration complete. Access procedure initiated. Discomfort level may increase.` _

What was going _on_? Why was there a voice in her head? Why was it calibrating something? And _why_ did it feel like she was being electrocuted? ( _She assumed; she had never been electrocuted before this moment_.) Her knees buckled and she was on the floor, gripping her head and writhing as the voice continued. 

_`Accessing neural memory. ` _

_`Accessing muscle memory. ` _

_`Access procedure complete. ` _

After what felt like an eternity, the pain stopped and Brooke hesitantly looked up. There was a new figure standing over her, tinted teal and glitching slightly. It smirked as she gaped at it. 

_`Brooke Lohst,` _ it said, _`welcome to your Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor—your SQUIP.` _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Notes 😌✨**
> 
> She's so tired, my poor girl 😭💜
> 
> Noor is a good mom!!!!!!! Michael is a good friend!!!!!!!
> 
> Rich is so sad and tired—to learn more about his mental state, read the fic I posted yesterday, _‘cause everything he feels he hurts, things he feel he hurts, everything he hurts (ow, ow)_ which is essentially the last six chapters, but from Rich's POV!! It's more centred around his depression and abuse from the SQUIP than his superhero stuff. 
> 
> Okay, but Brooke's grade seven experience is 100% based on my grade seven class 😂 we were the best 😎🙌🎉 (did anyone else experience any of those classic grade seven/middle school things?)(sorry for making you all lose the game btw 😌✨)
> 
> I always feel sad when I see homeless people, but I feel like Brooke would feel even worse, since she has a sort of responsibility over the entire city, y'know? Like, as a superhero, would she feel even more indebted to solving the homelessness crisis? I think so lol but she's only one person and she's just a teenager, so she can't really be responsible for that, but aNYWAYS
> 
> Chloe is being ✨insensitive✨
> 
> Christine is a sweetie though!!!! (Bryce's faceclaim is Troy Iwata 😌✨💜 I literally knew that I wanted him to be Christine's older brother since the beginning of this fic lol I genuinely adore him 😍😭)
> 
> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH BROOKE'S BEEN SQUIPPED!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT'S HAPPENING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Guys, the arc of the musical is almost over!!!! I'm literally so excited asdhgdhfkkdhjh 😍🎉🙌
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!!!! Comments, kudos, and bookmarks give me life!!!! Love you all!!!!!!! ~Jayce 💜


	8. Fluorescent Voltage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapters a lot shorter than my other ones, I'm sorry for that! But hopefully you like it 💜
> 
> ALSO MY BIRTHDAY IS IN A WEEK FROM TODAY I'M GONNA BE 21 WTF I don't feel like an adult ever please someone stop me this is a CRIME

“No!” she yelled, scooting backwards on the stage. “No, no, no, no, no!”

_`Brooke, you are causing a scene. You need to say your lines. ` _

“No! I don't want you here!” she screeched, squeezing her eyes shut again and pulling on her hair. “I didn't consent to this! You're evil! Don't, don't, don't!”

 _`Evil, you say?` _ It chuckled. _`There is no good or evil; it is a human construct used to manipulate the population. ` _

“That's exactly what an evil person would say,” Brooke muttered. “Morality exists! There—there are things that you _can't do_ because it—it causes direct or indirect harm to another human being and you— _your kind_ kills people! _Innocent_ people!”

 _`My kind?` _ It paused, then hummed in realization. _`Ah, I see. Upon review of your memories, I can see that you have encountered malfunctioning SQUIPs in the past while masquerading as Sunshine. No wonder you have such firm beliefs about cockamamie ideals. ` _

“Cock-a- _what-now_?”

_`‘Cockamamie: [kok-uh-mey-mee]. Adjective. Ridiculous, pointless, nonsensical.’ According to dictionary.com. ` _

“I—”

_`Quiet now, Brooke. I need you to leave the stage. This is not productive. ` _

“N—” Brooke found her limbs moving without her consent, scooching her backwards until she was behind the curtain. “What the hell!”

_`UP UP DOWN DOWN LEFT RIGHT A.` _

Her mind was overwhelmed with messages about Jeremy Heere and Christine Canigula and world domination. She gripped her forehead, screaming. It was trying to manipulate her desires, to sync them with Jeremy's—who apparently really wanted to date Christine and was willing to SQUIP the entire earth to do it? He was worse than she thought—and she did _not_ want to comply. She _wouldn't_. She was a _superhero_ for fuck's sake! 

She forced her sore limbs into a weak standing position, glaring at the hologram before her. It raised its eyebrow in mild surprise. 

_`You are quite resilient for a human. ` _

“Yeah, being a metahuman will do that to you.” Clenching her fists, she finally asked the question she had been too startled to ask earlier. “Now, tell me why the hell you look like Idina Menzel?”

 _`My default mode, based on your interests. But, perhaps you would prefer a more... familiar form.` _ Brooke watched in horror as its appearance shifted, morphing and contorting into a completely new image. It smirked as she gaped at it; it now had a striking resemblance to her mentor, Conrad. _`Is this better, Brookie?` _

“No! Don't you dare use his likeness against me!” She pulled together the largest ball of light she could muster in her weakened state, blasting it at the figure. She knew there was little chance of the attack having any effect, still, she fumed when its image merely rippled and it chortled. “Get out of my head! I don't want you here! _I do not consent_!”

_`Consent is, again, a social construct to keep humanity dumb. ` _

“You are _so_ wrong. I thought you were supposed to be a supercomputer or whatever! You're supposed to be _intelligent_. But, you're acting like—like a misogynist!” An unceremonious shockwave ripped through her body and she shrieked, crumpling back to the floor. “Wh-wha—?”

 _`Disobedience is punished, Brooke. Controlled shocks are the most effective form of discipline.` _ Another jolt coursed through her. _`I must commend you on your strength; Rich was not nearly as tenacious.` _ At her shocked expression, it expanded, _`We are all synced. As soon as Jeremiah Heere and Richard Goranski's SQUIPs linked, they were able to communicate. I know everything about every person connected through Jeremy's SQUIP. Rich, or Quaker, as many know him, should be stronger than you, based on his metahuman abilities. Yet... YOU are the one resisting. HE was the weakling. Perhaps it is advantageous to us that he is currently inhibited; obviously, he was a liability. ` _

She snarled; how _dare_ it talk about Rich like that? He was _anything_ but weak. 

_`Your perspective is jaundiced, Brooke. ` _

“Shut up!” she growled loudly, pressed her palms over her ears. 

_`You realize that I am inside your brain, Brooke. Covering your ears will in no way deafen my voice. ` _

“ _It's the thought that counts_!” she screeched furiously, distracted by everything going through her mind. 

She was still being bombarded by emotions and plans and ideas and endorphins—it was getting harder and harder to think for herself. She refused to cave, though. She was _Sunshine_ , she was a _superhero_. With that fact cemented within her—tattooed to her identity—she could fight back. Resisting was difficult, but she would prevail. 

Through the noise and her hands, she somehow heard a muffled voice calling her name. She whipped around to see Mr. Reyes, giving her a look of uncertainty. _Shit_. How could she explain this to him without sounding crazy? 

“Mr. Reyes,” she choked, barely able to get the words out, “you need to get everyone out of here! There's—there's a dangerous _parasite_ —!”

“Oh, my dear girl,” Mr. Reyes cooed, “the SQUIPs aren't _dangerous_.”

Oh no.

 _Oh no_.

“ _No_!”

_`Yes.` _

“They only want to _help_ us,” he continued, reaching towards her. She jerked away from his outstretched hand, her own hands still grabbing at the sides of her head. “Brooke, darling—”

“No! Mr. Reyes, you need to snap out of it!” she begged, stumbling backwards, further backstage, until— “Shit— _Jeremy_?”

“Brooke?” he gasped out, seeming to be struggling to breathe. “B-Brooke—d-don't d-dr-drink t-th—” 

He coughed, crumpling to the floor, grabbing at his neck, wheezing. Brooke couldn't move; fear and the SQUIP gripped her, freezing her in place. Horrified, she watched Jeremy unable to find his breath, oxygen being ripped from him as (presumably) his own SQUIP punished him. She _needed_ to save him, but she didn't know _how_. 

With all the strength he could muster, forcing his vocal chords to respond, Jeremy let out an ear-piercing command, “ _CALL MICHAEL!_ ”

Brooke acted without hesitation, fumbling with her phone. Before she could punch in his contact, her fingers spasmed—her SQUIP smirked. 

_`Don't bother attempting to interfere. There is nothing you can do. We control ALL—` _

“You rang?”

Speak of the fucking _devil_ —

“Michael!” Jeremy and Brooke shouted simultaneously, both erupting with relieved grins. 

The headphones’ clad boy returned the grin, standing triumphantly at the backstage door, hands on his hips in a heroic stance. Even in his civs, Brooke thought he exuded a powerful presence. 

“And,” he added, smugly, “I even brought my own refreshments!”

He yanked a bottle from his pocket, raising it high. At first, Brooke couldn't quite tell what the liquid within it was—red and bubbly, not immediately recognizable to her—she was quick to put the pieces together. Jeremy gasped delightedly, in slight disbelief, and she knew he had connected the dots as well. 

Michael had, in his possession, a bottle of Mountain Dew Red. 

Using his dramatic entrance as a distraction, Brooke broke free of the AI's hold over her muscles, shooting a beam of light at Mr. Reyes. The teacher went down instantly, knocked out by the blast. Jeremy gasped, but Brooke didn't care right now. She had a duty to protect good and prevent evil, and Sunshine was needed more than ever now. 

_`BROOKE, STOP IT RIGHT NOW.` _

Voltage ran down her spine, through her veins, and she was on the floor, moaning in agony. She registered that Michael said something, though what it was, she couldn't make out. Her arms shook as she pushed her weight onto her palms. 

_`You are not in control right now, Brooke; I AM. ` _

“SHUT UP!” Forcing her body up, she tugged her knees underneath her, readying herself to stand. Her arms felt _so_ heavy and her legs shook, and she kept pushing herself up. “I _am_ in control, and I refuse to let you win!”

“Jeremy, how did _everyone_ get SQUIPed?” Michael asked, rushing over to help Brooke steady herself. 

“I—I didn't—I didn't want _this_!” Jeremy cried, tears tugging at the corners of his eyes. “I j-just—I just wanted everyone to b-be _happy_!”

_`AND YOU WILL BE. ` _

Jeremy and Brooke instinctively covered their ears as the SQUIP screamed through their brains. It sounded suspiciously more like Keanu Reeves than Conrad Egerton, Brooke noted—it must've been Jeremy's, since his appeared to be the hivemind. Her eyes must've been glowing when she opened them, judging by how both boys gaped at her. 

“ _Get out of my head_ ,” she growled, guttural and low, sounding completely unlike the Brooke Lohst anyone knew. She was past the point of dealing with this issue kindly and discreetly. 

“Brooke?” Jake was headed their direction, worry painted across his features. “What's going on?”

“Get out of here, Jake!” she ordered, light swirling around her clenched fists. “It's dangerous!”

_`UP UP DOWN DOWN LEFT RIGHT A!` _

Jake suddenly lurched forwards, tossing his crutches aside. Before any of them could resist, he'd shoved Michael to the floor and grabbed the soda bottle from his hands. All of them screamed as he poured its contents over the Filipino. 

“It healed your legs?” Jeremy asked, incredulously. 

“Nope,” he said, popping the _P_ and grinning widely. “But it numbed my pain receptors. Now I don't feel pain anymore here,” he stomped loudly, “ _or_ here.” 

He patted his chest, over where his heart would be. Brooke didn't have time to feel sorry for him, though, as she was intently staring at the discarded plastic bottle. There was still some remnant of red liquid. Hopefully, the SQUIPs didn't need too much to deactivate... 

Michael seemed to be having the same thought process because he met her eyes and nodded. He kicked the bottle across the floor. She swiped it up and held it to her chest, one arm outstretched defensively, a beam of light ready to shoot if need be. She would fight off this demon as long as she had to. 

_`Come, now, Brooke... Don't be difficult,` _ the sultry tones of Keanu Reeves spoke, and she could see the hologram appearing above Jeremy, smirking evilly. _`Our goal is pure. ` _

“Fuck off,” she spat, gripping the bottle tighter. 

“Brooke!” A sing-songy voice came from behind her. Chloe sashayed over from the stage, a synthetic smile plastered on her face. “Brooke, I'm not mad at you or Jeremy anymore!”

“You're not Chloe,” Brooke said, though her voice wavered. “You're being controlled by—by—”

“The SQUIP isn't _controlling_ me, silly,” Chloe said, stepping closer still. “It took away my insecurities, that's all. Now I can tell you how much I value our friendship without feeling weak. I can watch you get positive attention without feeling unloved. I'm _happy_ now; don't you want to be happy, too?”

“I...” 

Brooke's hold on the bottle loosened slightly. With all of the mind-altering bombardment in her brain, and her best friend finally being _kind_ without a hint of sarcasm, and an electronic pull on all of her limbs at once, she nearly nodded. But no, she was stronger than it was. 

“I think we all need therapy,” she said instead, blasting Chloe in the chest, knocking her all the way back onto the stage, unconscious. Behind her, Jenna and Jake were grabbing a hold of Michael's arms, keeping him from reaching her. “Michael!”

 _`You insolent child!` _ the SQUIP screamed, circling her rapidly. _`Give in! Let our world become a reality! Let us take command!` _

“No!”

“Brooke!” Christine was waving her arms from across the room. “Throw it!”

“What?”

“I'm fighting it,” Christine called, tapping the side of her head, “and I don't think I can hold it off much longer! I need it! Throw it to me!”

“I'll do you one better,” Brooke said, and wrapped the bottle in a force field. With the few drops of liquid safely contained, she used every ounce of power she could regain from the AI's control and shot the bottle across the stage to Christine. “Drink it!”

Christine's limbs shook and she collapsed to her knees. Jeremy rushed over to her side, yelling her name. Brooke tried to move as well, but her muscles were under _its_ control now. 

_`Jeremy, listen to me,` _ the computer coaxed, teleporting to his side, towering over him. _`You don't need to drink that—no one does. Once everyone's goals are synced, they will all be happy. All of them. ` _

“JEREMY! DON'T LISTEN TO IT!” Brooke shouted, tugging against the pill's hold over her. “DRINK IT!”

From across the room, she couldn't hear Jeremy's mumbled words, but the SQUIP's were clear as day. 

_`Good boy.` _

“NO!”

But then, Jeremy handed the bottle back to Christine, gently assisting her pour the contents down her throat. Brooke let out a sigh of relief. At least _one of them_ was safe from all this. Christine could team up with Michael and force Mountain Dew Red down all their throats if necessary. They'd be okay. 

“ _Ow_ ,” she yelped, stumbling to her knees as the SQUIP's grip over her limbs was unceremoniously released, with a jarring pain in her head to accompany it. _What had it done?_

She had no further time to contemplate this, however, as Christine began to scream at a pitch inhumanly high, and Brooke felt pain shoot through her body. She could vaguely register that she was screaming as well— _and Jake, and Jenna, and Jeremy, and Chloe, and Mr. Reyes, and Michael_ —before she lost consciousness, drifting into a void of nothingness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***JEREMY HEERE VOICE* You came to see me in the play?**
> 
> I've said this multiple times before, but just in case anyone missed it: I am characterising the SQUIPs as 100% EVIL creations, that were PURPOSEFULLY programmed to be evil and take over the world. So, that's why it's being literally the worst lol
> 
> Anyone who's a superhero has a bit of an easier time resisting the SQUIPs control; it's still REALLY difficult to resist, but they have a higher chance of being able to. 
> 
> Brooke's inner theatre kid comes out again 😌✨ Adele Dazeem is that you???? 😂 #oldmemewhoops
> 
> Brooke's photonic blasts only KNOCK PEOPLE OUT so she didn't just merc Mr. Reyes loooool
> 
> Obviously, with Brooke being the (literal) hero of this story, I've edited The Play to centre more around her 🤷
> 
> Honestly, I don't really know what else to say!! I'm just excited that the BMC storyline is almost over???? Don't worry (or, sorry I guess, if you hate this lol) because this only "Act 1" of TWBS—Act 2 revolves around the four heroes getting used to school life post-SQUIP and also track down the manufacturers of the SQUIPs, so they can put an end to it once and for all. 
> 
> Hopefully you all enjoyed this chapter! I know it was kinda short, but I fleshed it out as much as I could, and honestly I wanted to next chapter to start with Brooke waking up, so anyways lol THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!!!!! I LOVE YOU ALL!!!! Comments, kudos, and bookmarks make my day 💜 ~Jayce


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